#the adrenaline rush sure made me tired though!

[piedoesnotequalpi]

What a horrible day to have ears

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

HEYYYY! loved your alastor fanfic! since your taking requests, could i get a human alastor x wifey where he comes home after killing someone and she cleans him up? make it really sweet because he’s totally into it pleasee!!!!! thanks youu~~

Taking care - Part One - human!Alastor x human!fem!reader

Hello, anon! Thank you so much for your sweet request <3

Before we dive in, I have a few announcements to make. First, I’m not sure when the next update for the "Out of Darkness" fanfic will be. I’ve been dealing with some overwhelming events in my life recently, which has made it difficult to find the inspiration to write a full chapter. However, I’m hoping to post an update sometime this week.

Second, I’m uncertain about how to handle the taglist for my "Out of Darkness" work. If you’re on that taglist, please let me know if you’d like to be notified about all my Hazbin Hotel posts or just the "Out of Darkness" fanfic. You can let me know in the comments, via DM, or, for an easier and safer option, by filling out the Taglist Google Form)

With that said, I hope you enjoy this post <3

Words: ~2050 TW: mentions of blood and fluff

Coming to terms with who Alastor truly was hasn’t been easy. The night he took you to the basement and revealed his latest victim has lingered in your nightmares ever since.

But if it was for him, he wouldn't have shown you. He didn't want you to enter this world full of violence. Still, it was better than the countless arguments whenever he would come home late at night, acting strange, not knowing how to answer your questions. In fact, he did it because he felt insulted by your accusations - him, who would kill for you, accused of cheating. Pathetic.

That night, he was waiting for you to run, to tell the police, even preparing for the painful scenario in which he'd have to kill you. But you didn't. He couldn’t fathom why you chose to stay, but he would lie if he said he wasn't relieved.

But you did tell him you don't want to know - You didn't want to know who he killed or why. You didn't need that and he respected it.

Alastor did everything in his power to shield you from this part of his world, attempting to protect you from the brutal realities he faced. So whenever he would come home, full of blood, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he would try his best to hide from you.

Usually, when your husband came home, he would make his presence known: humming his favourite songs as he enters the house or immediately telling you about his day, followed by a kiss on your wrist or cheek.

But whenever someone died at his hands, the night would be silent. The way he locked the door behind him ever so slightly or the way he would make his way to the bathroom in the darkness of the house, almost like a cat - that's when you knew to stay away. When you knew not to ask about his day. It's when you knew it was better to just continue preparing the dinner in silence or just fall back asleep, depending on the time, waiting for him to get ready and return to his everyday demeanour. This way, it became easier for you to deal with it.

Tonight was different though.

Alastor burst through the door, a rare sight of raw distress evident in his heavy, laboured breaths. It was clear something had gone terribly wrong. In a rush of adrenaline, you jumped out of bed, rushing to your husband.

"Dear, don't come here, please..." you heard him saying, hissing in pain as he tried to close the door. But you didn't listen. You peeked in the entryway, seeing him sliding down against the door, falling on his knees.

"Love?" you asked, cautiously stepping towards him. "What happened?" You turned on a lamp next to you, your eyes widening at the sight.

Alastor looked up at you with tired eyes, showing the signs of recent violence. His suit was torn in various spots, and his face was swollen and bruised.

"Ah... I didn't want you to see me like this, love," he said, his voice hoarse from pain. He tried to smile, but the effort was half-hearted. He looked down at himself, taking in the state of his battered body.

You got closer, trying your best to help him get up. Alastor stumbled forward, leaning heavily on you as you attempted to support his weight. He let out a pained grunt as you struggled to keep him upright. "Careful, love... I'm not as light as I look," he tried to joke, his breath laboured.

"What happened to you?" you asked, carrying him to the couch, trying your best not to fall. Alastor winced in pain, his body feeling heavier with each step.

"Ah... Just a run-in with some trouble," he replied through gritted teeth. "But I'm alright, love. Don't worry about me too much."

You carefully guided him to the couch, your hands trembling slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt. Beneath the fabric, his body was full of bruises and wounds, each one a stark reminder of the night’s violence. You brushed your hand along his chest, your heart clenching at the sight.

"Who did this, Al?" you asked.

He winced as your fingers grazed over the bruised and battered skin of his chest, the pain still fresh. He attempted to keep his smile, trying to reassure you, but you could see right through his facade.

"It's nothing, really... just a few bumps and bruises," he muttered, his voice strained. "Nothing to fuss about, love."

You started to take off the rest of his clothes, taking advantage of the fact that he was too tired to argue with you. He grumbled under his breath. He had always despised showing weakness, and being cared for like this made him feel vulnerable, a feeling he wasn't used to.

"Love, I don't need your help... I can take care of myself," he insisted, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

"You can't. We need to clean these." Alastor huffed in annoyance but didn't protest further. He knew that when you used that tone, there was no arguing with you.

"Fine, fine... Do as you like," he grumbled, reluctantly submitting to your care.

You made your way to the bathroom, the warm water filling the bathtub. You jumped when Alastor appeared behind you, leaning against the wall, the pain written all over his face.

"You should've waited for me to help you!" you protested.

"Ah, come now love, you worry too much. I'm not made of glass," he said, trying to shrug off your worry. He walked past you, slowly getting into the bathtub. He hissed through clenched teeth as the warm water enveloped his battered body, the stinging sensation intensifying as it touched his open wounds.

You kneeled next to him, Alastor letting out a deep sigh as your hands caressed his battered flesh, the pain mixing with a strange sense of relief. He closed his eyes shut, leaning back against the tub, silently enjoying your care.

"They tried to fight back, didn't they?" you eventually asked, your words coming out no louder than a whisper. You had to admit that a part of you grew more curious with every arrival of his: did they fight? did they beg him to stop? Sometimes it made you think if you were just as twisted as him for not being more disturbed by the whole situation.

Alastor's body tensed slightly at your question, his muscles aching. He knew the question would eventually come, and he had hoped you wouldn't ask. But he knew he couldn't lie to you, no matter how much he wanted to keep you away from the darker sides of his life.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice low. "They always do."

You started cleaning the bleeding wounds, your mind still wandering at what could've happened that night: why did he kill them? how did he do it?

“Do they… suffer?” you asked quietly, a shiver of dread coursing through you as you thought about the pain endured by those he faced.

Alastor’s gaze met yours, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He understood your curiosity, but the truth was too grim to reveal, and he was torn between honesty and the need to shield you. But you were stubborn, and he knew you wouldn't let it go that easy.

"No," he said after a few moments, his voice steady. "They don't suffer." It was a lie. But it was the only answer he could give you to keep the truth hidden.

You reached for the shampoo bottle, poured some into your palms and started scrubbing his scalp. Alastor let out another hiss of pain as you rubbed the shampoo, the knots and blood making the process more painful. He tried to keep his face passive, hiding his discomfort from you.

"Careful, love... You're pulling too hard," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Sorry... I need to take the blood out. It's really dried up."

Alastor grumbled under his breath as you continued to wash his hair, a mix of frustration and discomfort etched on his face.

"It's fine," he finally said, forcing himself to relax a little. "Just... try to be a bit more gentle, will you?"

You nodded, your hands rubbing more gentle as the water became red. Alastor leaned back against the tub, his body slowly relaxing under your touch. The pain began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of comfort. He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

"Love...," he muttered softly, his voice weary. "You don't have to do this, you know. I could manage on my own."

"It's not a crime to let me help you sometimes, you know?"

Alastor chuckled weakly, his usual cockiness returning, if only slightly. "Ah, stubborn as always," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of affection. "You never back down, do you, love?"

You ignored his question, your eyes never leaving the wounds. "Did this happen... before?"

Alastor's eyes darted to yours for a moment before looking away. The truth was, he had had many run-ins before where he had to defend himself. But he had never been this badly injured before.

"Once or twice," he finally answered, his voice low.

You looked at him, your heart hurting at the thought. You hated seeing him in pain, you hated the thought that on those many nights, he was here alone, taking care of his wounds, trying to hide from you.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Alastor leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a moment, the truth catching in his throat. "I didn't want you to worry," he finally admitted, his voice soft. "I know it bothers you when I come home late, when I'm quiet or when I try to hide from you. But I didn't want you to see more of... this. I didn't want to scare you off."

You wrapped your hands around him, resting your face against his bruised neck. For a moment, his body stiffened, but he slowly relaxed into your warmth, finding solace in your touch. "I know I said I don't need to know... that I don't care who you kill or why. But I do care about you, Al! And seeing you like this..." Your words, spoken with such sincerity, hit him deep and stirred something within him

"I... I didn't want to hurt you," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "I just... I wanted to keep you out of this... To keep you safe."

“If you want to keep me safe, then you need to be safe too,” you said, your voice firm with concern.

Alastor chuckled weakly, his lips curving into a wry smile.

"You and your logic," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You always find a way, don't you, love?" His hand squeezed yours in a gentle, yet firm grip, as if silently pleading you not to let go.

"But I gotta admit... I kind of like taking care of you like this," you said, a small smirk on your face.

Alastor chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Is that so, love?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Well, if I'm being honest... I could get used to it too."

“As long as you promise to cook jambalaya for me at least once a week,” you teased with a small, relieved smile.

Alastor let out a mock sigh, feigning reluctance. "Ah, you drive a hard bargain, love. But I suppose I can live with that." He chuckled, his eyes holding a hint of warmth and affection.

"Al..." you said, a hint of worryness in your voice. "Please, don't die..."

Alastor's face instantly softened at your words. Your worry tugged at his heartstrings, and he knew he had no choice but to reassure you. He took your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

"I can't promise I'll always come home unscathed, love," he admitted, his voice sincere. "But I can promise you this... I'll do everything in my power to come back to you. I always will."

Tags: @ratsematary

[holybibly]

These are my unholy hours

I'm pretty sure that San is one of the members who really wants to have sex after the concert. He's got too much adrenaline and horny energy in him, even though he's physically tired. He needs it badly.

Even after leaving the stage, San could still feel the wild rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His whole body was vibrating with the excitement and need he had felt throughout the concert, making it difficult at times for him to concentrate on his surroundings. He was completely distracted by the thought of how he was going to fuck you when it was all over. He was so into the idea that he wouldn't have minded if he had to get you down on all fours in the middle of the changing room while the other members were still there. After all, he never seemed to mind being watched. 

God, he was in need of you like hell. And he needed you now. 

As soon as they could leave the stage, San grabbed your arm and pushed you into the next dressing room, kissing everything he could get his hands on. The situation you now found yourself in wasn't new at all; you were kneeling before him, licking his hard cock sweetly, while San tried his best to keep quiet. He's always been such a damn loud boy, moaning and groaning, never able to keep his mouth shut, telling you all the time how good he feels and how much he loves you. And you're totally enjoying it, despite the fact that you've had to soundproof the whole flat to muffle all those endless pleas and long, melodic moans.

You weren't at all worried that one of the members might have caught you; you were more worried that the staff might wonder where the hell San was if he still had a VIP appointment with the fans and would be on the lookout for him. But when San grabbed you by the hair and pushed his cock deeper into your warm, welcoming mouth, that thought went completely out of your head. 

"Yeah, baby, that's right. Take some more." He whispered, panting slightly.  His head was thrown back, his mouth was open, and sweat was dripping down his neck and down his gorgeously muscled chest, making him so delicious and fuckable. He held your head still as his hard cock slid over your tongue until the head was in contact with the back of your throat. You gave a muffled moan around his thick girth, sending pleasurable vibrations through the sensitive velvet flesh. San had to bite his lip to keep the loud, prolonged moan from escaping his lips. You always knew how to make his head spin. 

"Oh fuck, YN." He was already on the verge, thrusting his hips harder as your tongue wrapped around him in a hot, wet caress. Fuck, he's going to come too fast if you don't stop. Fuck. So he quickly pulled his cock out of your mouth, all shiny and wet from your saliva and copious pre-cum. San pulled you up aggressively, lifted you off his lap, and planted a dirty kiss on your lips. He was the kind of man who preferred long, deep kisses, but there was no time for that now, and it made him whimper pitifully. "Later," San promised himself. "He'll kiss you properly later, when you're at home, tangled up in the sheets with his cock up to your balls. It is definitely an excellent plan.

"Bend over for me, baby; I need you so bad." His sultry voice scorched the tender skin on the side of your ear, and his lips left air kisses on the graceful shape of the lobe. 

Leaning over one of the makeup tables, you easily complied. San quickly pulled up your skirt, cursing under his breath at the sight that you had no underwear at all. 

"Fuck, you've been without your panties the whole time, baby. You're so slutty." He chuckled softly before giving you a light slap on your wet pussy. You managed to cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the needy whimper that was bursting out of you at the sight of his action. Feeling how wet and ready you are for him, San runs his fingers along your folds. 

His perfect little girl. 

"You're so wet for me; is it because you sucked me off, or are you just a slut in need of attention? You need my cock so bad. Don't you, baby?" San's mockery is in spite of the fact that it was he who had you here in the first place. As the head of his cock rubs against your folds, hitting your sensitive clit a few times, all you can do is nod and whimper. 

San does not give you any warning before he slowly slips it into your little pussy. Both of you hiss as he does so: you at the way his thick girth stretches your velvety walls, and San at how sensitive he already was and the way your pussy squeezes around him, almost restricting any movement at all. You were still fucking tight, no matter how many times he fucked you.

"You have to be quiet, baby. Do you understand? When we get home, I'm going to fuck you good, but for now, you need to be obedient and take what you're given. Got that?" 

You nodded, but that wasn't the answer he had in mind. San slapped your thigh hard, the mark of his palm standing out like a bright red stain compared to your milky skin. 

"Use your words." It was a silent command.

"Yes, yes, I understand you, San." You wanted to come across as collected and cold-blooded, but all you got out of it was a pathetic sob. 

"That's my little girl." He said this before he started to move. A push was all it took for you to feel how your legs were starting to weaken. God, he sure did know how to make use of those hips. Smooth rolling over and over, getting stronger and stronger until it developed into a steady, deep rhythm. You let out soft, panting moans with each powerful thrust, trying hard to hide them, the palm pressed over your mouth doing nothing. 

"San..." You whimpered as his fingers dug painfully into your thighs as he held you in place. The sounds of sex are always recognisable, so if anyone walked by, they would immediately guess what was going on behind the closed dressing room door.

San wrapped his arm around your neck and gave it a light squeeze. 

"I told you to keep quiet, didn't I, darling?" He leaned over you and pressed his muscular chest against your back, his hot breath brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. Fuck, what you'd give to be able to sink your teeth into those magnificent muscles right now? You wanted to lick him clean like a piece of candy.

"I'll be quiet, I promise." You really don't want to upset him, but the way his cock is sliding all over you in all the right places is making it all the more difficult. 

San doesn't say anything else as he begins to leave wet, purple hickeys on the back of your neck, driving deeper and deeper into your supple body. 

He knew you would keep quiet because you were always trying to be a good girl for him. San was starting to move faster and faster, making it harder for you to stay quiet for him, but you were still trying hard not to make a single squeak.

"You're such a slut, letting me fuck you in the dressing room in front of everyone. Did I turn you on that much, Kitty? You were thinking about me while I was up there on the stage, weren't you? I could have fucked you right there on the stage, and it wouldn't have been a problem for you. You're just a needy little girl who can't wait for her handsome boyfriend to fill her up with his thick cock, aren't you?" San whispered in a sultry voice, his thrusts getting harder with each sentence. You couldn't even answer him; you were too consumed with pleasure. The only thing that was holding you up now was San's hands on your hips. "You're such a slut, Y/N." As your walls tightened around him in response to the dirty words San whispered into your ear, a loud moan escaped his soft lips.

He comes out of you in an abrupt way, turns you around, and lifts you up so that you can wrap your legs around his small waist. Immediately picking up the same pace as before, San slides back into your pussy. Your hands cling tightly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, leaving red, angry marks that you'll lick up later when you get home, and you warm his cock sweetly in your pussy as you bathe together. 

San's arm wraps around your neck again and crushes you to death. He has always loved to see how you inhale softly, how your eyes roll back in your head, and how you become so soft and docile in his arms.  The change in position caused his cock to enter you at a new angle, the head of it hitting a super-sensitive lump of nerves each time, sending you to the heavens with each sharp thrust of his hips. 

"God, San, I'm gonna come." You whimpered and pressed your lips against his neck. A scattering of seductive freckles beckoned you to leave as many kisses there as possible. 

"Don't you dare do that. You will wait for me, and you will cum with me. Do you understand?"  You were on the verge of tears; your orgasm was so close, you could almost taste it. Your hips were starting to shake, everything was getting blurry, and you could feel that you were starting to lose touch with reality.

"Please... San, I can't stand it any longer." You are practically on the verge of suffocation now.  "You can cum, but I'll still use your pussy." It didn't matter to you so much. Your eyes rolled back and your teeth clenched into San's shoulder to muffle the loud scream of his name as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. A loud squelching filled the room along with jets of fluid spurting from your pussy, soaking San's trousers and onto his shirt. God damn it, he loves it when you squirt. 

"Well done." He praises you, kisses the curve of your neck, and increases the amplitude of his thrusts as he fucks you deep and hard. San did it really well; he knew how to make you squeal.

"You like being a little slut for me, don't you? Just a toy for me, to be used for my own pleasure. You're always so ready; your pussy is always wet for me. My darling, all you want is for me to use you." With these last words, his thrusts became sharper and more aggressive than before. "Now I'll just use you as a cock sleeve because that's all you are. My beautiful bitch that I can use any way I want to and any place I want to."

You could feel the overstimulation hitting you; it was almost burning you from the inside out, mixing the pleasure and the pain into a searing, intoxicating cocktail. But if it was San's intention to take advantage of you, you were at his beck and call. 

San pressed your breasts against his, his soft lips in contact with the nape of your neck. 

"God, I'm going to fill you up, damn it. I want everyone to know that you belong to me." He growls as he bites down hard on your neck. You know he's going to suck on that spot like a leech afterwards, kissing it and licking it with an endless stream of apologies. 

He let out a low moan as he came into you, and you sobbed, twitching weakly in his arms as you felt his hot, viscous cum fill you. 

"San, I feel so fucking good when I am with you." You moan as you run your fingernails over the fuckable shoulders that have driven millions of groupies to madness. 

San takes a moment to recover and pulls out of you. He watches in awe as his sperm starts to dribble out of you. San picks up his cum with his fingers and smears it over your swollen folds before he pushes it back into the hole he has used up. You try your best not to squirm, but San makes it impossible for you to do so.

When you start to whimper, he finally stops playing with his cum and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. God, he's so goddamn sweet; you're so crazy about him. 

"Thank you, baby. I needed that so much." San murmurs against your lips. 

"Anything for you, Sannie. Now let's get out of here; everyone's probably looking for you. Hongjoong is going to be so pissed off when he finds out about this."

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter III

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

You work magic with your hands

Or

The human body is able to withstand extreme damage.

"Medic!" Price's voice boomed across base, heavy footsteps following right after. The door slammed open before you could even get up, Gaz and Simon carrying a bloodied Soap. They set him down on the medical bed and you got up, rushing to them and examining the damage.

It's incredible, really, how the human body can withstand extreme conditions and stay resilient, such as a gunshot that had blood leaking out of Johnny's head like a faucet.

"Out. With me, Simon." You bark out orders and the men obey, Price patting your shoulder twice, the look in his eyes saying much more than words. Fix him.

"Apply pressure on the wound." Simon nods his head, quickly discarding his skull gloves as his bare hands apply pressure on Johnny's chest to limit the blood loss. You felt a weak pulse earlier, yet the sound of the EKG machine as soon as you hook him up served as reassurance. You immediately put on your gloves, not bothering to hook him up to an IV to avoid wasting time. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still here.

Your hands get to work immediately as Simon begins to treat the wound on Johnny's chest, a much simpler injury than the bullet in his head. You bring the light closer to his head, able to make out the familiar glint of the bullet encrusted in his brain.

Twelve hours. That's how long it took to complete surgery on Johnny to remove the bullet in his head and stabilize him. He's a lucky motherfucker; the base of his brain and spinal cord being completely untouched, allowing him to be part of the 10% of people who have survived a headshot.

Your knees give out right after you make sure Johnny is all covered up, exhaustion and stress along with the disappearing adrenaline finally catching up to you. Strong arms wrap around your torso to prevent you from falling— Simon, who refused to leave your office, staying awake those twelve hours in case his help was needed.

"With you, lass." He reminds you, helping you stand up and guiding you to your chair, crouching down to get a better look at you.

"Need a cuppa?" He asked gently, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead to check for your temperature.

"Fucking brits..." You grumble, tired eyes looking down at him, the way his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up into a small smile, a deep laugh escaping out of his lips for a second.

"Some coffee?" You nod your head, hands going under your glasses to gently rub your eyes as you struggle to stay awake. He gets up, hand on your shoulder squeezing softly to make you look up at him.

"I'll go tell that lot Johnny made it, think you can stay awake until they're here?" His words had hints of teasing despite the concern in his eyes, only turning away once you nodded your head. You got up from the chair, walking over to the medical bed and looking at Johnny's unconscious body. His heart beat was stable, at the very least.

"I miss you, Johnny." Your hand reaches out to hold his, squeezing softly before you bring it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, slowly putting his hand back on his stomach. As annoying as he can be, he feels like a younger brother, someone you'd lay down your own life for with no hesitation, though that secretly goes for the rest of the team.

You take a step back when you hear footsteps approaching, pretending to fix the new IV injected to him.

"Doc." Price greets, walking over to you and looking down at Johhny. Bruised and bloody, but alive.

"Knew I made the right choice with you." His heavy hand pats your shoulder, managing to offer you a smile despite all the stress he was in, not knowing whether or not one of his boys was going to make it.

"I'm honored, Captain." He could hear the appreciation under the layer of sarcasm.

"I don't know when he's going to wake up, but there wasn't any damage on the frontal lobe or top of the brain, so probably not gonna have brain damage either... not that it'd make much of a difference." You drift off, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you think back on the twelve hours that just passed, the deep chuckle escaping the captain turning your attention back to him.

"Good. Go rest, Gaz and I will take turns watching over him." You simply nod, turning away to leave and patting his arm gently as you walk past. A small smirk sets on your lips when you feel the muscle, quickly leaving the office and going to your quarters. You barely manage to remove the bloodstained white coat before you collapse in bed, any thoughts about what happened and the coffee Simon was making for you completely forgotten as you finally drift off to sleep.

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[reareaotaku]

I Want 2 Watch You Bleed

Prompt: I wonder what your dead corpse would look like... We'll find out if you try and leave me~ Pairings: Yandere! Miles Fairchild x Nanny! Reader Word Count: 3.2k TW: Obsession, Gaslighting, Slight NSFW, Porno Magazine Mentioned [Happy Thanksgiving, my fellow Americans :) Enjoy this treat]

You could feel his eyes on you. He was always watching. You didn't know why he had this fixation on you, but he was overbearing. You always felt his presence, because it was like a fog that made it hard for you to breath. At first, you thought he was making sure you were doing your job correctly, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

---

You woke up late at night, feeling as if you were being watched in your dream and when you awoke, he was there. You were taken aback; Your eyes widened as he hung his arm off the footboard.

"You drool in your sleep."

"What?"

"And snore. It's annoying."

Your mouth was practically on the floor, "What are you doing?"

"You're so fucking stupid."

You frowned, your nose scrunching up, and you debated kicking him. Ultimately, you sigh and turn away from the young boy.

"I don't snore." You mumble under your breath, before going back to sleep. If he wanted to stay, you would let him, because you couldn't fight him. You were too tired and the energy just wasn't there.

You felt a dip in the bed, causing a spike of adrenaline to shoot up your spine. Why wouldn't he leave? Why were YOU scared of some stupid teenage boy. You were going to yell at him to get out, but you couldn't move. You felt like you were being held down and feeling his hand snake up your leg didn't help the paranoia that was resting in your head. What was wrong with him?

---

The morning after was awkward and strange. You knew he had been in your room, but the way he was acting was as if you were delusional.

"You can't go into my room at night."

Miles look at you, before tilting his head, "I didn't go into your room last night. It was probably a dream. I think it's weird that you dreamed about me though."

"I would never dream about you. Just- Don't do it."

"Well, I never did, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

You knew he was lying- Well, you did, but you were slowly doubting yourself.

---

You groaned, the music was blaring. It was loud and you were wondering how he hadn't gone deaf yet. Your head was banging and you had half a mind to yell at him. You frowned, before standing up and placing down the book you had been trying to read to Flora.

You could practically feel the floor shake as you stomped up to his room. You banged on the door, seeing as that was the only way he'd hear you. There was no answer, so you decided to just open the door.

He was going to town on his drums, before he looked up to you. He puts down his sticks and gives you his attention.

"What do you want?"

"I'm trying to help Flora read, but we can't even think with that loud music."

"Go outside."

"How about you play a different instrument? You have multiple different instruments. Or maybe you can just wait an hour to play-"

"Why are you being such a bitch?"

"Don't call me that. That is rude and very disrespectful."

He laughs, "Oohh, I'm so scared of the big, mean nanny."

"I'm not playing with you, Miles. I'm serious."

He tilts his head, before looking away from you and at his drums, "I'm sure you think you are. You do realize that unlike me, you're replaceable, right? You don't hold any real power. It's all just a figment of your imagination. Though, it seems your mind likes to run wild, doesn't it?"

"You will not make a joke out of me little boy," You stomp to him, grabbing his sticks causing him to yell out 'HEY!'. "You want to be a rude smartass? Okay, let's see how you like the consequences of your actions."

He follows behind you quickly as you run down the stairs. You rush to the living room where the fire place is. Thankfully, someone had already started a little fire, so your plan was half complete. You stood in front of it, before looking back at him.

His eyes were blown and he was frozen, "Don't. You. Fucking. Dare."

"Oooh, I'm so scared of the big, mean teenage boy." You then do something that you would regret later and throw the drumsticks into the fire.

"You fucking bitch! I'll kill you!" He rushes towards you and you're quick to grab his hands and hold them close together so that he doesn't choke you. After a few minutes, he calms down, but he gives you a dead look, "You better sleep with your door locked and one eye open." He then turns around and walks back to his room.

You hear of the crackle of the wood from the sticks and look back at the fire, causing realization of what you had done to hit you. You had gone to far. Your eyes widen as you frown, before trying to reach for the sticks, but you end up burning your hands. You could only watch as they burned to ash.

---

For the next few days you couldn't sleep. You knew you shouldn't be scared of Miles, seeing as he was younger than you, but there was just something off about him. The guilt had also been eating you alive. While you didn't like the way he treated you and others, you should have been the bigger person and handled the situation with more maturity.

You had tended to avoid him, until you finally decided to go buy him some new drumsticks. Was he an asshole? Yes. Was he inconsiderate of everyone? Yes. But he didn't seem to have many joys in life; And music was one of them and you destroy a part of it. You didn't know how you'd feel if someone destroy parts of your hobby, especially if you didn't have any family or friends besides a younger sibling. God, when you thought about it, it really bummed you out.

You waited until late at night, while everyone was asleep [supposedly], when you decided to leave. It would take you a while to get to town, because the house was far into the country side. You felt like you were doing something you weren't supposed to as you slowly walked across the wooden board floor. You heart dropped when you heard a loud creak! but thankfully there was no other movements.

You groaned when the loud engine blared in the near silence. You were thankful when you finally got out of the driveway and headed into town.

---

You hold the brand new sticks in your hands. You fingers glazed against the engravings on them. You didn't know if this would be good enough for him, but you were hoping he'd at least pretend to accept your apology.

Walking up to his room was agonizing. It felt like time slowed down and the hallways shrunk on you. When you finally got to his door, you thought about leaving, but sucked in a breath and knocked.

"Um, Miles?"

There was no answer, which caused you to sigh. You knew he was in there. You put your ear to the door, trying to listen for anything, but nothing. You knocked again.

"I'm coming in." You slowly opened the door and Miles was sitting on his bed- Well, it wasn't really a bed, more of a mattress- looking through a magazine. He flipped through the pages, not paying attention to you and it kind of looked like a porno magazine, but you weren't about to harp on how he got his hands on such a thing, because that was not a conversation you wanted to have. "Miles?"

He finally looks at you, throwing the magazine to the side of the bed and sat up, looking at you, "What?"

"I got you something," You hold the wrapped box out to him, but he doesn't take it. He just glares up at you as if his looks could kill you. You click your tongue, before rubbing the back of your neck. "I-uh, wanted to apologize... for you know... what I did, the other day... I shouldn't have done that. Nothing warrants a response like that and I'm sorry. I never should have thrown your drumsticks into the fire." You start messing with the box, taking them out when realizing he wasn't taking the gift, "I know that these aren't made out of the expensive wood your old ones were, but- umm... I got them engraved, you know, with uh, your name." You show him the light dug 'Property of Miles Fairchild'. "I hope we can start over and put that behind us."

He looks at the sticks, before grabbing them and looking them over in his hands. You watched him closely, hoping he'd take them. Thankfully, he did, but not before rolling his eyes. He puts them on his night stand, before looking back at you, "Leave me alone."

"Alright.." You finger gun him, before clicking your tongue, "I'll see you around." You left his room, before facepalming. " 'I'll see you around'? God, what a fucking stupid thing to say. Ugh, I'm such an idiot."

---

Miles holds the sticks between his fingers, examining them. They were nothing special, but they'd do the job. The engravements were a nice touch and it spurred something in Miles. It was a sweet gesture, probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him, especially without an ulterior motive. And to think, he had been planning to suffocate you in your sleep.

He was still kind of mad about losing his favorite pair of drum sticks, but these meant more to him, because they were bought with him in mind. You bought them while thinking about him and Miles thought that was kind of hot. Was he on your mind? How often did you think about him? What did you think about? Was it appropriate?

You had really just wormed your way into Miles' heart and now you would never be allowed to leave.

---

You parked the car, looking over the books you had gotten Flora. They weren't anything special, but you wanted to get Flora something new to read, because you were sure she was getting bored of the same old stuff in the house.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when turning around and seeing Miles behind you. "God, you should wear a bell around your neck or something. You can't sneak up on people like that. Could give someone a heart attack."

He ignores you, repeating himself. "Where the fuck have you been? Flora was asking about you and we saw that the car was gone. She thought you abandoned her." He looks down at the books in your hand, before looking back at you.

Flora had been worried about you, but he had been pissed. How dare you leave? You can't be like everyone else and abandon him after you got through to him. He'd rather kill you with his bare hands than for you to leave him. He didn't care if he had to force you to stay and were unhappy; He loved you to much to let you leave him.

"I would never do that to Flora," You take a step back, your back against the car, as he walks closer to you.

"You can't just leave without telling anyone."

You laugh, shaking your head, "Okay dad. Didn't realize I had to ask you for permission to leave. Besides, I was just... Getting some new books for Flora, not like I have to explain myself to you. She's always stuck in this house and there's nothing new for her to read or do."

"Well, you can't leave without telling anyone, and now you know. I can get you fired, you know. Just don't do it again."

You roll your eyes shaking your head, before mumbling under your breath, "Yeah. I'm not doing that."

---

You were focused on dinner plans, trying to organize and figure out what you needed. Thankfully you knew it would be a short trip. You hated having to go all the way to town, especially on a busy day. Errands were never your favorite thing, but they were part of life. You tsked, clicking your pen, while tapping your fingers on the table.

You went out to the car, thankfully Mrs. Grose taking over for you, so you can leave. It was so strange how everyone was stuck in the house, like they couldn't leave. Did they want to leave? Sure didn't seem like it.

"Where are you going?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when hearing Miles from behind you. You turn to him, frowning, "God, you have to stop doing this. You can't sneak up on people like that."

"I told you you can't leave without telling anyone."

You smirk, not taking him serious, "And yet under the eyes of the law, you're still a child. So, I don't have to tell you anything."

He smirks evily, "You're right. Yet I'm kind of like your boss, so you do have to listen to me."

"Power trip much?" You roll your eyes, gesturing to the car, "Do you want to come with me, Miles?"

You groaned as he happily got into the passenger seat. You pull open the door, ignoring his stare as you got in. You started the car, the hum taking over the silence of the car.

---

It was just a guy, but it had obviously bugged Miles. You didn't know why Miles decided to be such a passive-aggressive asshole to the deli guy, but he did.

"God what is your issue?"

"He was obviously hitting on you." Miles remarks, tossing some stuff into the basket.

"So?"

He looks at you, his brows down turned, "So? You just let him do it. Just out in the open for everyone to see."

"What is up with you and this little," You gesture to him, "controlling nature? You can't control people, no matter how much you try or how much money you have. You have a little control issue."

"And you're a fucking whore." He was jealous and it was showing. Thankfully you were to obvious to his crush and thought he was just an asshole. He wanted to crack that dude's neck like a fucking baby back rib. He wanted to keep you locked away from the rest of the world so that only he could love you. You are a stupid woman, yet somehow you had Miles wrapped around your little finger and his heart on a leash.

"You are...." You pause, a devestated look on your face, "a monster."

"Let's just get going." He ignores you, walking ahead of you, but you weren't done with this conversation.

When getting back to the car, you glared at Miles, who was leaning on his hand and tapping his fingers against his thigh.

"You are such a brat, you know that?"

He clicks his tongue, ignoring you. "Kinda whorish to let him look at you like that," He finally turns to you, before eyeing you up and down, "But you probably like the attention, huh?"

"God, what is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem-"

"You're acting like a jealous, possessive child. Flora acts better than you."

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything. You groan, getting into the car and finally starting it.

---

You had to get out. You didn't know where to go, but you had to get away from the house. Weird shit kept happening. You felt eyes on you constantly and Miles had become obsessively clingy. You couldn't be alone for more than a few seconds without him appearing. You felt bad for Flora and you wanted to get her out of the house, but you were worried it was to late for her.

Flora was acting weird and saying things that didn't make sense. It was like she was possessed or something. She would talk about her old nanny and her dying. It scared you.

You had waited until it was dark out and you put Flora to sleep. You felt bad, but you couldn't stay, you had to leave, it was for your best interest.

You fiddled with the keys in your hands, before accidentally dropping them when trying to put them in the handle. You curse under your breath, before hearing creakk and your eyes scanned around you. The last thing you needed was to get caught now.

"What are you doing?"

You froze, recognizing the voice, before turning around and facing him. He was so close to you, making you wonder where the hell he came from. He looked like a monster with the way his eyes were blown out and his face was obviously furious. "What?"

He frowned, tilting his head, "Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Well, you sure seem to think so." He gestures towards the keys and the car, "Trying to leave in the middle of the night. Where are you going to go? You don't have any family."

"I'll figure something out."

"With what money? I mean, you can't possible have enough saved to last very long. Maybe a few weeks in a motel, if you're lucky."

"I'd rather live in an alley then spend another second here."

Something flashed in his eyes, something unrecognizable. You knew you had pissed him off. It didn't help that he obviously had serious abandonment/attachment issues and you were trying to leave. He felt as if you were trying to make a fool out of him. How dare you.

"Well, you don't really have a choice."

"What?"

"You don't have," He steps closer to you, before whispering, "a choice."

"Yes I do. Everyone has a choice."

"You know what- You're right. Your choices are that you stay here and we pretend this," He gestures to you and the car, "didn't happen. Or..." He chuckles, looking away from you, as if he was remembering something fondly, "Well, I wonder what your dead corpse would look like... We'll find out if you try and leave me."

"You don't scare me."

He smiles, his eyes filled with an almost love, if not for the situation you found yourself in, you'd be flattered.

"You sure? You seem pretty scared."

He was so close that he could see all the emotions swirling in your eyes. You couldn't lie to him, because he could see the truth. You were terrified.

"Come on. Give me the keys and let's go back inside."

You looked down at the keys, before looking at the car and then at him. You had lost and now you were going to be stuck in this stupid house forever.

[kingalooo]

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭?

This is more of a drabble from Flores since I wish Miguel would sneak into my room :((( This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks LMFAO

Minors do not interact!!!

 ⊹ ✦ 。°˖ ⊹ ✦ 。°˖ ⊹ ✦ 。°˖ ⊹ ✦ 。°˖ ⊹ ✦ 。°˖ ⊹ ✦ 。°˖

-After that little interaction in the kitchen, it became a constant routine.

-Most of the time it would be Miguel initiating anything and everything

-It was our little secret

-From groping you secretly at functions

-Fingering you in the living room

-Sneaking kisses down the hallway of the house

-Or more recently, sneaking him in through your bedroom window

-It was a constant thing atp

-It wasn’t everyday though, he’d make sure you were well rested for your classes or work the next day

-He didn’t want his girl to be tired or exhausted

-Especially after a long night🤭

-But tonight you didn’t have to be anywhere the next day

-You weren’t expecting him to come in at all tonight since he’d usually send a message

-A soft knock echoed in the room

-Startled from your sleep, you get up from bed and head towards the window

-“Miggy, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I say, rubbing my eyes tiredly

-“Lo siento princesa I just couldn’t sleep…” Miguel smiled apologetically, noticing how tired you looked. “I figured I’d sleep better with you next to me.”

-sleep better after fucking me 😻

-After letting this ginormous man through the window, we made our way to my bed. I slip into his warm embrace

-It was great and all

-But now you couldn’t sleep

-You begin playing with his fingers

-He was half asleep atp but let you do as you pleased with him

-“Miggy?”

-“Mande mi reina…” He mumbled back in a raspy voice

-Y’all hear something purring?

-“Now I can’t sleep,” I frown at him “Thanks a lot.”

-He chuckled, playing with your hair with his free hand while you played with the other

-“I'm sorry mi reina…” He planted a small kiss on my lips. Was that enough? No.

-You shift yourself to sit on top of his lap, his hands instinctively gripping your hips

-“I like where this is going…” Miguel grinned

-“Guess you’re going to have to stay awake now,” I tease, slowly grinding against his hips

-Miguel had no problem letting you take control every now and then

-But the way you looked on top of him made him go ballistic

-That lace nightgown you were wearing was his favorite

-Easier access to everything he wanted

-This little teasing of yours wasn’t going to cut it

-He quickly flips you over so he’s on top

-Positioning himself instantly, his clothed erection throbbing against your wet panties

-He thrusted against you, earning both a moan from you and a groan from him

-This continued for a bit, whispering encouraging words into your ear

-Then there was a knock

-Both of our heads snapped towards the sound

-“Mija? Estás despierta?” (My daughter? Are you awake?)

-HOLYYYYYY

-“Get in my closet”

-Imagine a 6’9 man in a tiny closet LMFAO

-He made it work regardless in just a matter of seconds

-You quickly adjust yourself, throwing on a robe before opening the door to see your dad standing on the other side

-“¿Qué fue ese ruido?” (What was that sound?)

-“Perdon apa, I was fixing my bed…” You answer innocently

-“Esta bien, pero ya duérmete es demasiado tarde…” He says back in a serious tone before shutting the door (That’s okay, but go to bed it’s really late.)

-You turn back to face the closet

-Miguel peaks his head out

-“I don’t know how you did it,” I try to hold back a laugh as he tries to slip out of the tight space

-“Adrenaline rush princesa,” He chuckles. “No te regaño?” (Did he scold you?)

-“Not really, he just said go to bed…” I yawn before taking his hand in mine and guiding him back to bed

-We gladly go back into our cuddling position

-But not before his hand grips your ass

-“Miguel.”

-“It’s a habit.”

I literally love this man sooo much ugh 😔

[innorogers]

Insomnia

Steve Rogers x OFC (You)

Summary: You couldn't sleep, and Steve neither. So you want to help him with a bedtime story. And he wants you forever.

To say you couldn't sleep is an understatement. You quite literally couldn't even close your eyes for the past few nights. 

It's not something you can control; your brain just works like this: challenges at work are the adrenaline that rushes to your mind, and it just won't calm down. 

So, a 13-hour shift wasn't enough to tire you out; insomnia hit so hard that you decided to head down to the training room to try to drain all your energy.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could hear the distant thudding of fists against a punching bag. 

Upon pushing the door slowly open, you weren't surprised to be met with Steve...without punching gloves.

God, you felt for those knuckles. How can this man be so careless with himself? Not that you have any say in that, of course.

You nodded as he turned around, surprised to see anyone at this hour.

"Cap." you said respectfully, with a tiny voice, looking at the floor as if there's anything wonderful there.

Steve walked over, sweat glistening across his forehead and cheeks, his shirt clinging to his now drenched chest.

"Oh, hi..." He smiled upon seeing you, grabbing a towel from the bench and wiping the sweat from his face. "It's late, what are you doing here?"

"Um..." You didn't think he would talk with this familiarity, but you smiled back. "I couldn't sleep, um...so I just thought I'd try to train myself."

"Ah...insomnia, right?" Steve chuckled slightly, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a few swigs. "I used to suffer with it quite badly too. I used to go to bed and just...stare at the ceiling all night."

"Oh my god." Your reaction was real. "That sounds...terrible."

Steve nodded and slumped down on the bench, leaning back as he took another sip of water. "It is...the only way I got around it was to exhaust myself before bed, but I'm sure you don't need me telling you that."

That statement struck you a little bit. You couldn't help but feel so bad for him. "Cap...that sounds draining. Have you been like that, since...always?"

Steve nodded once again, his hand running through his hair and pushing it back. "Unfortunately, been like it as long as I can remember. I only recently started trying to control it - the army didn't exactly care much about my sleeping patterns..."

"What?" Now you were horrified. "That's so awful. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's alright," Steve reassured with a small smile, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. "I'm used to it. Plus, the army needed me to be the best I could, even if that meant I had to run on 0 hours of sleep."

"Wait, what? Steve, I meant, Cap...that's, that's not right!"

Steve chuckled softly and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it isn't." He was quiet for a moment before looking back up at you with a small smile. "I appreciate the concern, though."

You felt your cheeks were starting to burn, so you looked down again. "Have you tried any pills?" you asked as you watched yourself reflected in the mirror. Oh, you looked so stupid with your gym gear. What were you even doing with a towel and a bottle of water?

Steve nodded, scratching his temple slightly with his thumb. "I've tried just about everything: pills, sleep therapy, meditation, music, literally everything you could think of to help me sleep. I can maybe get 3 hours of sleep max, but that's if I'm absolutely exhausted."

You looked at him. You couldn't believe it. This man, you saw him in and out every day from this campus. He went out so energized, and came back full of scars and wounds, and he couldn't even get some quality rest.

You couldn't help but approach him, your voice as soft as you ever knew it: "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He paused for a moment, looking at you with a quizzical look for a few seconds before his lips quickened up into a small smile. "I mean...there is one thing I could think of..."

"What?"

"Sit next to me." Steve patted a space on the bench beside him, a small smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "Keep me company."

"Sure." 

You didn't even doubt it, and you sat next to him, thinking you were willing to talk for 60 hours in a row if that's what it took to get this man to sleep. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

Steve leaned back against the bench, resting his hands on the metal beside him as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. "There's not much to talk about. My mind just...won't switch off."

"Hmm...maybe, a bedtime story?"

Steve laughed incredulously at the idea, the noise coming from his chest filling the silent room. He found it extremely amazing that he hadn't heard his own laughter like that in a long time.

"A bedtime story? Don't you think I'm a little old for that? I think last time I heard one was… 96 years ago?"

"Well..." God, his laugh was just...magical. You smiled back as your heart melted. "You never know, right?"

Steve chuckled softly once more, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling, a smirk on his face. "You know what...sure. I'll take a bedtime story."

"Alright..." You started laughing too, your frenzied brain starting to do its thing: spinning really fast. 

"Here I go..."

Steve shifted so he was facing you more, leaning forwards with one elbow on his knee. His face was expectant albeit a little amused, and he wondered what kind of a bedtime story you were going to tell.

"Once upon a time, there was a super soldier..."

Steve raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping his lips at the start of the story. "Alright...a super soldier...continue."

"...Who couldn't sleep, so he ran every night up to the hill and asked a fairy living there: 'Hey, little princess, why can't I sleep?' And the fairy replied: 'Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Is it because the stars are too shiny?' And the soldier looked up at the sky full of stars and shrugged his shoulders: 'Probably...?'"

Steve’s lips formed a soft curve at the beginning of the story, his smile growing with each sentence. 

"How do you know this story?"

You winked at him. "I'll tell you that at the end. “

“So...the fairy thinks about it for a second and says: Well, maybe I can help you. And she goes up, up, up in the sky and starts to collect all the stars one by one, but there are so many of them! And she's so anxious because she wants the super soldier to get some sleep before the army calls...you know, those dumbasses..."

Steve's head tilted back once again as he laughed out loud, shaking his head at the ludicrous but somehow lovely story that was being told, and for some unknown reason, it was making him feel slightly relaxed. 

"That's a lot of stars, huh?"

"Yup..." you heard your voice, and you noticed your joy in making him happy or bringing a little peace to his mind. 

You continued, "So the fairy gets a brilliant idea: 'I'll call every kid on the planet and ask them to wish upon a shiny star, so the stars will fall, and every kid is happy with their wishes granted, and the sky is darkened, and the super soldier gets some sleep.'"

"Every kid? How would they all know to wish upon a star?"

"Because..." You looked at him as if saying, 'duh dude...'

"That's what kids do, didn't you wish upon a star? Ever?"

"Well…I'm not sure I ever did...I…really don’t remember..." He sighed nostalgically.

You looked at him. You wanted to say, "Me neither," but instead, you just responded in a comforting voice, "Well...If you don't sleep tomorrow either, I promise you, I'll go and fetch a star for you."

Steve smiled back at you, your words sending a strange yet warm feeling through his heart. 

"You'd go as far as stealing a star for me?"

And your damn brain worked so fast you didn't even think about what you were saying.

"I'll get every star in the universe for you if you'd ask."

Steve's breath hitched in his throat, there was a strange feeling through his stomach and slightly increasing his heart rate. 

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you before he spoke again, his own words surprising him. 

"Do you promise...you'd get them all?"

Your heartbeat just stopped at that glance of his, but you nodded. 

"Yes, I do."

Steve took another moment to compose himself, a wonderstruck hitted him as he looked you in the eyes. He was searching your face for any hint of sarcasm or lies, but all he could see was what looked like true honesty. 

"You make a powerful promise...you sure you can keep it?"

You laughed. "What, you don't believe me?"

At the sound of your laugh, Steve's breath hitched in his throat, the noise stirring something deep within him which he attempted to push down. But it was so strong.

"It's not that...I just don't want you to promise something you can't keep."

"I'll keep it." He probably didn't know it, but you were actually vowing, "Every word of it." You replied in a soft voice.

There it was again, that tickle through Steve's stomach. Butterflies everywhere. They came from the air that he breathed, through his chest, to his entire body. 

He smiled at you, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, Steve actually believed someone when they promised him something. 

"I'm holding you to that, you know."

You got lost in his eyes. God, there’s an entire ocean in his eyes. You held your tongue before you said that, so you cleared your throat. "I haven't finished my story."

Steve shifted once again to face you, a smile still present on his face. "Continue...tell me the rest of the story."

"So the fairy gets all the stars of the sky to fulfill the kids' wishes, and the sky finally darkens. She goes back to the soldier, but before arriving, she went to heaven and borrowed some feathers from the wings of the most beautiful angel. 'It's for a kid that can't sleep,' she explains to the angel, and with the feathers and her fairy magic, she makes the most comfortable pillow in the world. And only then, she goes back to the soldier and gives him the pillow: 'There, you will have a good sleep, honey.' And so, the soldier finally gets some rest. The end."

Steve listened to the rest of the story intently, that strange feeling in his stomach returning as waves of a tide.

Damn butterflies. Now they even left a trace of golden glitter shiny things.

He wants those butterflies to stop, but he fails, his eyes locking with yours. "You are good...you are a truly excellent storyteller, you know that?"

"I know, right?" You laughed, and also lowered your voice. "But I'll tell you a little secret."

He chuckled as he leaned back against the bench, arms crossed across his chest. As he was trying to hide something, to push back on something. To take distance. 

"A secret? I like the sound of that."

"You're my only and first audience."

Steve cocked an eyebrow, his smirk returning and his arms uncrossing. "You mean this is the first time you've even told someone that story?"

"Or any story."

Steve's eyes widened at your words, the smirk on his face growing even more. 

"You've never told a story before...like, ever?"

"Ever."

Steve chuckled softly at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You mean to tell me that ever since you were a kid, you've never told another person a story? Not even when you were little?"

You were going to say something, but kept quiet and smiled.

Steve was quiet for a moment before looking at you. 

"Most people tell everyone stories...they don't save up a story for years and years and years to tell just one person...just one?"

You blinked at him. "It's only for super soldiers who can't sleep at night, and you are the first one I've met. But...if you happen to know any other super soldier who is also a superhero and also happens to be...you know, Captain America, the greatest avenger of all times...tell him I have a great bedtime story to share with him in case he can't sleep and is training in the tower at this time of the night...otherwise...then yes, you are the only one."

Steve couldn't help but laugh at your response, the sound filling the room once again and that pang through his stomach returning. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he looked at you, a smirk on his face. 

"I'll let you know if I see any super soldiers around."

"Tell him that's a hell of a bedtime story."

Steve chuckled again, his smirk growing wider as he gave you a nod. "You think he'll like it?"

"I don't know, what do you think?" you shrugged your shoulders.

Steve paused, his eyes locking with yours and that feeling in his stomach returning once again. 

He slowly licked across his lips and was quiet for a moment before answering. 

"I think he'll like the story...I think he'll like it a lot..."

You paused for a long moment before you moved your sight out of the window. 

"Well, that would make me very happy, you know?"

Steve smiled back at you, that warm feeling in his stomach slowly spreading through his entire body. There was something about you that he just couldn't quite put his finger on - you made him feel strangely relaxed yet on edge all at once, and he couldn't quite explain it.

"Why?"

"Because..." Your response was honest and sincere. "I don't know, I guess...I guess I just wish all the good things for him."

Steve was silent, his eyes not able to move from your face as he listened intently. It was at this moment that strange pang in his chest became so prominent that it almost knocked the breath out of him. 

Your words were simple, yet they made his heart flutter. He didn't understand why, but he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt in years, a feeling so strong and overpowering yet so gentle.

Steve smiled, his voice coming out as nothing more than a whisper. 

"You...you really care about him...huh?"

You stayed quiet. This was weird, he was asking, yet you felt that those questions came from some kind of reflexive thought, that it was your inner voice asking you. 

So you answered, "I do. A lot."

Steve didn't say anything for a moment, the way you answered so quickly and so honestly made all hesitations and doubts disappear. He is not fighting anymore against it. He found himself looking at you intently, almost as if he were trying to read you. 

His heart rate slowly rose, and those butterflies flew and flew in circles all around within him.. 

He suddenly remembers that he didn't even know your name. You’re such a dumbass, Rogers. Captain America is just an excuse, this is the REAL reason you don’t get dates over 100 years. He tells himself. Could you be more stupid?

"I don’t even know your name." He says in an apologetic tone.

"I'm..." You thought about it and decided to go with your real name, not the one you were known for. 

Steve repeated your name silently to himself, letting it roll off his tongue and hearing the way it sounded as it left his lips. 

He paused for a moment, his face softened with a slight smile as he was saying a breathtaking thought.

"Beautiful name..."

"Thanks." And you blinked at him. "And you are...?"

A subtle laugh flickered on his face at your joke before replying, "Well...you probably know my name already, but...I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

Your heartbeat skipped a dozen paces, but you played it cool. "I like your name too."

Steve's eyes widened at your words. He hesitated and tilted his head slightly, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he spoke gently. "You're not going to call me 'Cap' or 'Captain America'?"

"Do...do you prefer it?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face: "No...I'd prefer it if you just called me Steve...or Stevie."

"Does...anyone dare to call you Stevie?"

Steve chuckled, "No...no one dares, no...but I think I'd be willing to let you get away with it..."

"Alright then, only because you've asked."

Steve's smile widened, a small laugh escaping his throat in response to your comment. He found himself taken aback by the unexpected emotions stirring within him. Every passing moment made him more drawn towards you, captivated by your presence. 

He couldn't comprehend why he was suddenly feeling so at ease, as if he had known you for a lifetime instead of minutes.

It was like homecoming. Instead of greeting for the first time.

Steve sat up straight again, his eyes not leaving your face. He took another moment, gathering himself and taking a breath before speaking, his voice went as gentle and as low as ever. 

"Can I tell you something?"

His gentle voice gave you goosebumps. 

"Is it a secret?"

Steve chuckled nervously, his hands suddenly becoming sweaty and palms slightly clammy, his heart starting to pound against his chest. He shifted slightly so that he was even closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"Hmm, yeah, I guess you could call it a secret..."

"Will I ever be tortured by enemies trying to know this secret?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head and leaning back once again, but still staying close to you. 

"No...no, you won't get tortured, I promise...it's just, something I just want to share with you and only you..."

"Oh, in that case...I better promise I won't tell...You've made me promise a lot of things tonight, Steve."

Steve smiled but noticed that his hands were becoming even more sweaty as he thought, and that his heart was racing like a teenager. 

"Can I...can I lean a bit closer to you for a second?"

Your body literally was screaming to get closer to him, your brain was sending some kind of alert sign, and your heart was about to jump off your chest. So you were practically a mess. You could only do as you were commanded.

“Sure.”

Steve shuffled even closer to you, his leg slightly touching yours, the feeling of just sitting so close to you creating a small burst of electricity through his body. He suddenly realized that he could feel your body heat and how much he was desperate to get even closer, to feel that warmth directly against him.

He took another deep breath before speaking, his voice still as low and as gentle as a whisper, but the butterflies within him were entering in a frenetic dance.

"I'm gonna lean even closer than this, alright?"

No, it is not alright because your heart was going to burst, but could you ever say no to him? 

"Alright." You nodded, unable to move your eyes from his.

Steve inhaled deeply at your response, his body almost aching to be even closer. He leaned in, his leg now firmly pushed against yours, his own body heat mixing with yours.

He was suddenly nervous, the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. He took another deep breath, swallowing and licking across his lips before speaking once again in that same, low, gentle voice. 

"Can I come even closer?"

You held your breath, barely nodded. Just move, MOVE!

Steve didn't need you to say anymore. His body was now fully pressed against yours, his breath catching as he took in your scent. God, you smelled like fresh grass after rain. It was driving him wild.

His head was next to yours, his cheek mere millimeters from your skin, like willow leaves resting on the water, creating ripples through your heart.

"Closer?"

Your mind was blurred. "Please."

That one word was all it took. Steve realized how much he wanted you. He shifted, lifting his leg onto the bench so he was almost sitting next to you, his chest and hips now pushed against you. 

He could feel the heat from your body through his own and he got it, what was that wonderstruck homecoming sensation he had: he never wanted to be without it.

"Is this close enough?" he murmured, his voice nothing but a whisper.

You sighed, your heart pounding in your chest. With a determined look, you put your hands on his face, tracing gentle lines with your fingers.

You looked at him, your gaze holding his, as if you could see forever into his soul.

"No. If you don't mind. I'd like to be closer."

Steve's breath caught, his body burning with desire. He shifted closer, pressing against you, his pulse quickening. You felt his heat, his warmth, his desperate need, and you surrendered to it.

His breaths became shallower now, that strange feeling almost overwhelming within him. 

"How about now?"

"Well...you think...you think that the other...the other superhero that suffers from insomnia could do better?" You slowly put your arms around his neck, and pulled him to yourself. 

"Something...like this?"

Steve gasped, feeling a strong wave of electricity shoot straight to his core as he felt your arms around his neck, your body pressed against his all at once, his arms holding onto your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. His eyes flicked down to your lips as you spoke as he answered. 

"Definitely."

And he suddenly realized how good it felt, how right it felt, how much he wanted to taste you, how badly he could feel that strange, overwhelming feeling in his heart begging him to just give in.

He moved just a little more. And it felt as if he were hanging on the edge of a cliff, his breath caught in his throat as he spoke, his voice a shaky whisper.

"Can I..."

And you moved your lips up, right into his.

And all the butterflies just...flew up, and a thousand golden glitter traces exploded everywhere like magic dust rolled in the wind.

Steve felt a sudden fire ignite within him as his body ached for you, every inch desperate to feel your touch. 

He let out a small moan as he tasted you, the ache growing stronger with each passing second. 

His hands roamed sliding down your back and up to your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands as the kiss deepened. Steve wanted more, he needed more...he just couldn't get enough.

But you broke the kiss, you needed air.

So he had to, too. His breaths coming out sharp and ragged, his heart hammering so hard and fast he could practically feel it in his head. He took a moment to compose himself, his hands holding you still against him, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to control his breathing.

“I…I can’t believe I just did that…” he spoke after a while, his voice coming out as a whisper.

OMG. 

You opened your eyes and blurted out: "But...but...did...but did you like it?" 

RIGHT? Please tell me you liked it or you'll have to present your resignation to Stark tomorrow.

“Liked it?”

Steve’s hand suddenly comes up to gently push a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I loved it.”

You gazed at him, and of course, your impulse worked so much faster than your sense: "So can we do it again?"

Steve’s eyes widened, a small, incredulous laugh escaping his throat.

“You think you have to ask?”

"And...would you mind if I...take the lead...this time?" You can barely look at him, and your voice is so low that only a super soldier could hear.

"I..."Steve’s heart suddenly skipped. God, you’re wonderfully full of surprises.

"Not at all." Not in a million lifetimes.

"Ok." You inhaled deeply to take charge, but all of a sudden, you stopped. As you were realizing something.

"W-What's wrong?" Steve didn’t dare to speak above a whisper, his mind racing through every possible reason as to why you suddenly hesitated like that.

“Is this…too fast?”

"Oh no." You immediately shook your head: "No, this is wonderful. It's just...my heart is beating so fast and so loud, I don't...I don't even know what to do with it, just...just give me a second to recover. Hold to that thought a little longer."

You wave your face with a hand, as you couldn’t breathe. Is too loud. This is too loud. Your heart was pounding too fast, you were afraid he could hear it. That everyone in this campus could hear it.

"Oh for god's sake!" He laughed so hard. His heart suddenly swelled, the moment was perfect…perfect in a way he never realized possible. He couldn't believe it, how can you be so adorable and drive him to the edge of wildness at the same time.

As you struggle to catch your breath and calm your racing heart, your eyes are drawn to him. His smile, his laughter, the sparkle in his eyes, the way he holds your hand. 

And in a moment of dumbfounded wonder, you find yourself uttering, "Are you even real…?”

He sighed, a long exhale filled with tenderness and emotions he couldn't yet understand. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered back with a smile.

"If I'm not real...your imagination is pretty damn amazing..."

"...I think this is beyond my imagination..."

Steve slowly moved his hand down to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across the blushing skin: "Trust me, my imagination could never have come up with someone like you..."

"But..." You almost trembled under his touch, and as he raised your jaw to look at you, you finally took the lead.

"This is real." 

And you pressed your lips to his for an even more perfect second kiss.

Steve gasped.

They say marvelous things about the first kisses. But how can they say nothing about the second one?

His heart suddenly accelerating within his chest, overtaken by the sensation of your touch. He couldn't think, head completely foggy, mind blurred, with the only clarity of wanting more. 

His hand suddenly grabbed onto your waist, pulling you even closer to him, his own mouth instantly responding against yours. 

He was losing it to the urge, the need, to get even closer to you, to have all of you.

Your whole body was shivering, and when you got a chance to breathe, you uncontrollably whispered his name with a lost voice.

"Steve..."

And that's just it. 

That’s what set Steve on fire.

He slowly shifted his body, pulling you onto his lap so you were now sitting on his thighs. He leaned forwards to your ear, his hot breath on your neck as he spoke in a low whisper, his own voice almost pleading.

"Say it again..."

You opened your watery and moist eyes, and what you released was almost an uncontrolled begging moan, "Steve..." as you pressed your fingers tightly to his skin, unable to bear all these feelings.

Steve suddenly stopped all action, the sound of his name on your lips mixed with that look in your eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

"God..." He said as he breathed heavily and leaned back. Panting. 

For fucks’ sake. He thinks to himself.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me..." 

It took all the willpower within him not to act on his body's needs, not to press you down into the bench and claim all of you right there.

Your mind was so blurred and your body and heart were reacting so out of control that you had no idea what you were saying. So you just answered spontaneously in between panting breaths, "...Helping you with your sleeping problems?"

Steve chuckled. You were magical. His body was distressed after your reply, but still so pending on everything you made him feel. He looked at your blushed face and heard your agitated breathing. He couldn't understand how you truly had no idea of the effect you had on him, of how badly he wanted you right now. So he took a deep breath in, trying to hold himself back.

"Helping to sleep?" His thumb caressed your lips. "More like keeping me awake..."

"Oh..." As if you had any idea of how that had happened, ending up in his lap with this kiss that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

"So do you need another bedtime story?"

Steve chuckled again, your words bringing him back into the moment, grounding him a bit. He looked at you and smiled, shaking his head. "No, that's a wrap for today. But I need to ask you something."

Something he wanted to ask since you sat by his side tonight. But well, is not his fault that he was so easily distracted by you.

"And be honest with me, okay?" He inhaled slowly, and for a strange reason, his nerves rose again when you nodded. He slowly ran his eyes over your face, the way the light from the city below flickered on your skin. 

And for a moment he hesitated in asking, what if the answer was not what he expected?

"Are you...seeing anyone right now...? Like...do you have a...boyfriend...?"

"Oh." From all the questions on earth, this was the last one you expected. So you nodded. 

"Yeah, I do, from Mondays to Fridays, during working hours. Then, I'm allowed to hang around the campus at midnight to find a super soldier, sit on his lap, and kiss him."

Steve's eyes widened when he heard the first part, and then a loud laughter escaped his lips. 

He felt his heart filled with inexplicable joy. Damn, you were good. He was so glad, he couldn't stop smiling, and he felt his soul was full with your hand interlocked with his. As two perfect matched pieces from a puzzle.

"Well...?" You lifted an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Are you?" You looked at him as if it were an obvious implication. "Seeing someone?"

"No." He was firm, the small smile still on his face. He looked up at you, slowly shaking his head. "No...I haven't been with anyone for a while...I haven't had any reason to..." And he sighed a gentle whisper, "...up until now, anyway..."

You were terrible at getting indirect answers. Your brain only worked with binary stuff. So you blinked several times, making sure you understood correctly.

"And...can you consider that possibility, right now?"

Steve held his gaze steady on yours, "What if...what if I said I already had someone in mind?"

"Is she...helping you with your sleeping problems? Or...a very good storyteller?"

Steve suddenly let out a chuckle. "Maybe ...but it's not just about the sleep, you know...It's about...having that person there...that one person who's always there for you...that one person who always makes you smile..." As you.

"...that person you can always be yourself around..." As you. He thought, while observing you, expecting your reaction.

"Well..." You nodded, thinking about it seriously. "I....I don't know if I'd be a good fit but...."

"...But...?"

Steve's nerves built again as you paused for a moment, he wanted to know if you were saying what he thought you were about to say.

"But I promise I'll do everything in my power to make you smile...and...and I'll be there...always...and...I'll do anything..." 

Your lack of courage didn't let you finish under the look of Steve's gaze. He was so serious that you started to stutter and couldn't finish those stupid words.

Well done. That sounded so cliche. You couldn't believe yourself.

But Steve sat there, completely stunned and frozen, your words slowly sinking in within his mind. He couldn't believe what you'd just said, how you'd spoken to them with such honesty, such conviction. And you weren't even together yet, you weren't a couple, you weren't...anything, really.

And his stomach was twisting into a knot as he listened to your every word, as he heard the meaning behind them.

A strange kind of calm washed over him, as if a weight was suddenly slowly lifted from his chest. You couldn't have said it better. He couldn't even imagine better, and yet, everything you said was exactly what he hoped you'd say, and those words had calmed and soothed something within him he'd never realized needed soothing.

"I AM SO SORRY." You, in the other hand, were a mess while he was still wonderstruck, thinking that made him feel so uncomfortable. "I'll take it back, I didn't say anything."

"No." He replied immediately. No, don't you dare take that back from me. 

He wanted to speak, wanted to say so much, but the words failed him. So he inhaled deeply, and cupped your face in his hands, pressed his forehead to yours.

"I m, I'm just...stunned, I'm just...marveled."

"Huh?" This emotional rollercoaster was killing you. "Why?"

Steve suddenly let out a small chuckle, your innocence and naivety when it came to your affect on him just kept him in endless wonder. But he had time. You'll find out eventually how important you are. And that makes him smile. That's a wonderful word: "Eventually." Means you have so much ahead of you together.

"Because...I've never heard anyone say the things you just said to me, that's why..."

"Oh." You are not really good at interpreting people's faces. So you just don't know what to say, and to be honest, there's something else you want to ask.

"Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Can I have your phone number?"

Steve laughed again, God, what a night. How can you be this...amazing? He pulled the phone out, turning it on and pulling up the screen as he spoke.

"Of course you can...here...put your number in..."

"Yeah..." You rubbed your nose. "I don't know my phone number...Maybe...you can search it in the...public contact list? Here, let me help you." You say while entering your complete name in the organization's internal app.

"Oh." Steve frowns. "You don't know your phone number?"

"Well, do you?" You return his cellphone after finding your contact card in the top level section.

"I know EVERYONE'S number." Steve has a smirk on his face, his playful side suddenly coming out.

"Really? WHY?" You wonder. "You're on Level 0, you should have access to everything, you don't need to have to know the numbers by heart..."

"Because...I'm Captain America, I have to know these things..."

You take this joke so seriously, you're shocked. "REALLY? You know...like all the avenger's numbers?"

Steve snorted a laugh, the look on your face priceless. Oh, you gorgeous, adorable being. And he had this urge, of kissing you again, so he smiled, leaning a little closer to you as he spoke, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Yeah...yeah I do...every single one..."

Your eyes sparkled.

"Can I have Thor's?"

"What?" That got him off guard, and he answered really fast. "NO." No way. You stay away from him. You're mine. 

"Why? Does he even use these things?" You were so genuinely intrigued. "Don't you talk to him through a magic mirror or something?"

"W...what..." Steve didn't know what to answer, he was laughing and shaking his head while swiping his contacts. "No, we don't have magic mirrors, I actually do have his number, look, over here 'God Of Thunder'..."

"Wow, did you actually name him 'God Of Thunder'?" You find that incredibly cute.

"Oh yeah...I'm one of those people that put's everything..." He held his phone in front of you.

"...well here it is...there's 'The Mighty Thor', the 'King of Asgard', also 'God of Thunder'...and 'Thunder God'...pick your favorite..."

You look at him while his sight is on the screen of his phone, your voice almost a whisper. 

"And...um...what would be...my contact name?"

"Well..." Steve's eyes were glancing down to his phone at your question, wondering what he would call you. He paused for a moment, scrolling to the section of his contacts list, his thumb hovering over the small, blank box for your name. He thought for a moment longer.

"What would you want it to be...?"

And your words escaped from your mouth before you could think clearly, before you could reply with anything smart.

"What do you want me to be? …to you?"

Steve suddenly froze, his finger hovering over the blank contact name as your words echoed in his ears, filling his mind. 

He straightened his pose, his eyes met yours, looking deep into them, silently trying to figure out what you'd just said.

And he finally exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing through his mind again, unable to form words for a moment. He could only manage a quiet voice, a soft whisper.

"How about...my Everything."

And there was once upon a time, a soldier who couldn't sleep asked for a wish to a fairy.

So there you were, feeling your heart has exploded into a million shining butterflies, and all the stars of the universe have made your wish come true, you took his hand and smiled.

"Your wish is granted, soldier."

END but TBC

Continue to: Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

Hii thanks for reading & thanks for sticking with me this far <3 I hope you liked it and it wasn't too long to boring. This is my first time writing in english, hope it wasn't terrible :3 also, this is my first time setting this thing in tumblr, so fingers crossed it worked out okay ;_; A special hug to this lady who helped me set this up @jamneuromain (I still have no idea how this works)

Love.,

Moon.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Dabi is such an interesting character to me. I find it so fascinating how he says that he does not care about some things, how he could not give a single crap about anything that's going on. With his easygoing attitude and flat tone, no one could blame you for thinking that way.

It was one of the many reasons why you wanted to break up with him.

Falling for Dabi to begin with was beyond unexpected. The man positively reeked of trouble. The second he stepped foot in your favorite coffee shop, you know that the only thing that guy could bring was chaos. The way he carried himself was a dead giveaway, even if most of his face was covered. You had no idea that he was a wanted criminal at the time and perhaps that was one of the reasons why you approached him to begin with.

Besides, life was just dull. Nothing was going on in your life, no sparks, no excitement. Every single day started to feel like the same shade of grey, the old colours of the world morphing into something so forgettable that it made you want to pull out your hair. So what if talking to this guy was a possible mistake?

It was better than nothing, you told yourself.

You can still recall his strong smell - smoke with a hint of some cheap cologne, perhaps a vain attempt to cover up that third metallic smell which couldn't be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Beneath that dark hoodie of his you could see his lips twitching and just as he was going to tell you off for bothering him, you introduced yourself.

The rest was, as they say, history.

Dabi was a bit of a weirdo but you didn't mind. You enjoyed his quirks and even liked to compliment his appearance from time to time, which made the villain wonder just how sick in the head you really were.

He never made any moves to shoo you away though.

And that stone cold fact was something which the League would often make fun of him for it. Dabi would usually end their jabs and jeers with an annoyed scoff and just leave the bar, hands in his pockets but no one was buying it.

Dabi wasn't sure if he wanted you near those clowns. The thought of someone else oogling you, in the same manner as he did, set him off. Dabi started to make the effort of seeing you more, whether or not you knew he was actually there was up for debate. He stuck to the shadows, tailing you day and night and he would reveal himself only if he saw fit.

Dabi wasn't sure why he was doing this, wasting his time with some weak little civilian.

When the day had ended and the sun was setting, Dabi would lazily walk back home. His mind would be rushing with thoughts of you, his knuckles in a tight grip as he kept them hidden in his deep pockets.

He could kill you whenever and however he damn well pleased.

Dabi had the terrifying ability to snuff the life out of you, and that thought gave him a rush of adrenaline, dare he say confidence.

Your life really was in his hands.

You often felt the need to explain away Dabi's red flags - he's just tired, that's why he's so cranky! Oh, he got mad that you went out with someone else? Well, um... There are so many bad guys out there, it makes sense that he would be worried. Because that is what a good boyfriend did - worry about his precious baby.

Dabi was smart (even a little kind) enough to keep his burn scars hidden away from you but the ones on his face were impossible to conceal. The villain would often find himself enchanted by your gentle touch as you'd trace your delicate fingers across the rough flesh, a stark contrast to the sheer softness you radiated.

He was often torn between two options - does he keep that softness safe or will he sink his fangs deep in your neck, claim you all for himself?

Day after day, the second opinion started to sound so much more appealing.

Dabi's love was all over the place. There would be times when you would hardly ever see him. No calls, no texts, no nothing. For all you knew he could have been dying in a ditch somewhere and you'd be none the wiser. You tried countless times to open up to you about his job but he would just shut you down in record speed. He would never get annoyed or angry with these questions but that did not ease your worries.

And with the prying eyes of friends and relatives, it got even harder to keep yourself so delusionally in love.

None approved of your relationship with Dabi. You shed countless tears due to their harsh protests, which often meant that you would run away straight into the arms of the main issue. Dabi would hold you in your bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His shirt would be covered in your tears and snot. Perhaps he would grumble about it later but not at the moment.

He was not a good person, but he did not want to be a complete monster towards you.

After these incidents, almost everyone who was ever close with you would start dropping like flies. All died violent, brutal deaths with the main cause usually being severe burns inflicted on the victims of various parts of their bodies. Sometimes the scarring was so deep that even days later the corpse would radiate heat, the disgusting smell or rot forever sticking to your nostrils.

To describe the experience of being forced to identify those bodies as "traumatic" would have been the understatement of the century.

The walk back home was excruciating, perhaps even a little otherworldly. There was no left in the world who cared for you anymore, no one you could run to for safety and comfort.

The only one who you had left was Dabi.

Maybe, it wasn't so bad, being with him that is. Yeah, he could be a little mean sometimes but he would always make it up to you. Dabi would call you his doll and pepper your face with gentle kisses, which often made you giggle. Sure, not knowing what Dabi was doing at the dead of night made you worry so much that you would sob until the cracks of daylight but that was okay because he would always cross the threshold of your home in one piece.

You only had Dabi to worry about, and that was... Odd to manage.

Gone were the walks with friends, meals with family. There was no living soul on this Earth which cared about you, wanted to see you happy and thrive.

Dabi was the only person left in your life.

And that was when the horrible realization hit like a bucket of ice cold water.

Dabi was the only person you had left.

Every single complaint, he had memorized them, each and every one. You knew that this was the case as he would sometimes bring up the most random things you had said months after you said them to begin with, proving the fact that he actually was paying attention.

The door opens with a powerful slam which startles the man. He asks you what's the problem but all hell breaks loose.

You scream, shout, cry. You accuse him of every possible crime he could have committed and he says nothing. Dabi sits on the sofa, his legs crossed as his cheek rests on the palm of his hand. You go on and on and Dabi doesn't bother to stop you.

Not until he lets out a deep chuckle.

Took ya long enough, he said to you. The tips of his fingers ignited with blue flames, a silent threat to keep you from screaming. You couldn't even bolt towards the door and there were no other escape routes.

He finally had you where he wanted you.

Dabi wasn't stupid. He knew that you planned on dumping him for a while now. He could not allow that, not now. Not when you had forced your way deep into his heart and made a home there. Dabi had nothing in this world and he made sure that you had nothing either.

Now, you had each other. And to him, that was more than enough.

[magicaldragons]

analysing varadha's psyche

a deep dive into the workings of his mind

varada, because of his childhood, has always seen love as something to be worthy of, given to those who either have inherent value or have earned it.

and even though he instinctually knows, deep down, that deva will protect him, and trusts deva to come when he calls, it still shocks him when deva does goes to extremes or places varadha's regard over his own.

he definitely doesn't understand it, especially with his own view of himself; and everytime deva shows up for him, he has the thought 'this is the farthest deva will go for me' and is proven wrong each time.

but we see him grow familiar with deva's loyalty and devotion to him, with the more time he spends in deva's presence, which leads us to our next point:

2. varadha does not ask for things, because he's faced disappointment enough. he's tired of not receiving or being able to hold onto that which he wishes for – and it's led him to a point where he cannot imagine the privilege of 'wanting' anything for the sake of it.

this is very common in those who have been raised in an unhealthy environment or have had a deficit of love or safety – he's had to tell himself "no" so often, that he finds it very hard to ask for things.

which is why it's also very fitting that deva understands him so well, and can anticipate what he needs, even before varadha has to figure out how to ask.

we see varadha get more comfortable towards the end of the movie though, where after they've fought together, he says he wants the kingdom.

he doesn't phrase it as a request to deva specifically, it's more of a goal for himself. but the fact that he has this desire, and wants something specific, tells us that he finally feels secure enough to think beyond survival and safety.

3. in the present, he carries out all duties as king solely because he is obligated to. it is definitely not something his heart is in.

even when he asked for the throne, it was WITH deva by his side, right after the adrenaline rush of fighting side by side with him.

otherwise, varadha had actually given up a while before the ceasefire, just wanting to make sure the people around him would be safe, even if he died:

when rudra touched his mukku poga again, he had been completely capable of fighting back, but he'd lost all will to. the only thing that changed his mind – the only thing that had made him not only want to live, but want to strive for more – was the chance that he would get to have it and simultaneously have Deva next to him as well.

now that deva is gone, and their relationship messed up, he knows deep down, that none of this is really worth it, but he forges ahead because the responsibility of a kingdom has fallen to him, and if not him, it will end up in the hands of those who hate him and would do worse things to him than death.

3. varadha does not like calling deva 'devaratha' (the only time we've heard him say 'devaratha,' is when they were at the gate, for official purposes)

he still calls him 'deva' in the present, even though they're not on good terms, especially after deva hurt him seven years ago

he clearly cannot bring himself to call the other anything other than 'deva,' which implies a complete refusal to distance himself from deva anymore than he already has.

4. he's very self-disciplined and very resolute when he decides to be. once he has made a decision, he's not intimidated and cannot be threatened into doing the opposite, which also makes him very loyal once he's devoted himself to a cause.

his father definitely tried multiple methods to get the truth out of varadha, but we know that varadha stayed silent and never revealed anything that could put deva in danger, even to the people he trusts with his own life.

[spicyspiders]

Request from @xweirdo101x that wanted a story where the reader is a member of the task force that was captured for a year and by the time he's rescued, his hair has turned white. I hope you like it!

It took a few months to come to the conclusion that you weren’t getting out of your detainment. You were tired of hoping and knew you needed to save your energy. Though it wasn’t physical to hope, it would be wiser to put your thoughts elsewhere. 

You didn't try to escape. Though your thoughts were filled with possibilities, you never put them into action. 

It was a quiet day when they came to save you. Well, quiet up until they showed up.

You were in your cell when they found you. You had just eaten and felt tired and sluggish. You sat against one of the four walls, your eyes getting heavier and heavier. The loud sound of yelling was what had your eyes shooting open. 

After a few moments of yelling and the sound of a body hitting the ground, it went quiet again. During those moments, you inched over into the corner of the room, trying to make yourself look as small as you could. 

Whoever they were, they checked each and every cell down the line. When they reached yours, you tried to settle your beating heart while adrenaline shot through your veins. You thought it was a trick of your eyes when the cell door opened and Price stepped through the door. Blood was rushing through your body to your legs and arms in case you needed to run, so surely it wasn’t actually Price, but a trick caused by blood loss through your brain and eyes, right?

“Can you walk?” Price asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded and looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Price held one of his gloved hands down in front of you, and once you were up, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder so you could walk together. 

“I can walk,” you reminded him. 

“It’s faster this way,” Price said, his tone leaving no room for arguments. He pulled you through the dank corridor, the other hand not wrapped around your shoulder held out in front of him, a gun in his hand. 

Price's body was hot against yours. So much so that it made you uncomfortable, but when he felt you tense up, his arm only tightened around you. You pushed through the feeling, instead, you focused on keeping your legs moving. 

“They’re all gone, commander,” Ghost immediately said when you went through a door and were met with the sight of the rest of the task force. 

“Dead?” Price asked in return. 

“Yes,” Ghost jerked his head in a stiff nod, then his attention was on you.

All of their attention was like they were waiting to respond to the words as well. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be happy, you just wanted to be home, away from all the bloodshed. “Can we go?” You asked, your voice rough. 

Price nodded, he unwrapped his arm from around your shoulder, but still, you felt the warmth. He took his spot in front of you, Ghost at your right, Soap on your left, and then Gaz at your back, effectively surrounding you. 

It wasn’t until you were back on base that your heart finally slowed down from where it thudded against your ribs. On the journey back, there were instances where you thought it was going to, but it would only start back up again, your brain thinking you were about to be captured again. 

The smell of the base felt familiar to your nose, even after being away for nearly a year. The smell almost made you sick, a feeling that all of them were able to easily read. 

“Go shower and we’ll make you something to eat-”

“They fed me,” you cut Price off, making the man flinch at your cold tone. 

Price responded after nodding, “go shower then. We’ll talk to you about what happened when you’re ready.”

Your hands balled into tight fists at your side. You wanted to question him and see what he would say if you were to ask what if you weren’t ready. What if you wouldn’t ever be? But all you did was give a tight nod. 

You knew it wouldn’t magically fix you, but it didn’t make you feel all that better. You were clean, but you still carried around what happened to you. It weighed on you heavily, making you feel more exhausted than you already felt. 

You thought about going straight to bed, but you intead walked to the living room. As you approached, you could hear the noise of whatever was playing on the television drift through the doorway. The sound greeted you, unlike the men that sat in various spots throughout the room. 

It made you want to scream, the way they were all looking at you. “What?” You snapped, not talking to one of them in particular. 

“Your hair,” Gaz said, breaking their silence. 

You had nearly forgotten about your hair. It was one of the biggest physical marks your captors had left on you. It’s no wonder why Price wanted to talk to you about it. 

You shrugged, “everyone gets grey hairs,” you said, looking from Gaz to the television. You couldn’t tell what was playing. 

“Not like that,” Gaz answered. 

His words made you flinch. After you had showered, you had to stop by your room to put on some clothes. You couldn’t remember the details of how you left it. You knew that it was normal to not remember such small details, but it still made you want to cry. You thought that changing into something more comfortable would make you feel better, but being in the room again with all of them, you felt naked. 

Tomorrow, you would burn the clothes they brought you home in. And then, you didn’t know what you would do. You had to live day-by-day when you were captured, not knowing what the next day would bring. Looks like living that way would remain. 

At the moment, all you wanted to do was sit down. Luckily there was an empty chair away from them. It only kept them physically away so you didn’t have to worry about one of them trying to wrap a comforting arm around your shoulder, but you still felt their gazes watch you closely as you sat down.

“What’re we watching?”

“Not sure, we just turned it on.”

His response helped a little. The fact that none of them recognized what was playing and not that you didn’t recognize it because you didn’t get to watch television for the better part of a year made you feel better.

When you folded yourself up into a ball and rested your head on your knees, the other men only kept on staring. You tried for a little bit to focus on the screen, to see if you could actually figure out what was playing, but it was hard to keep a steady mind. 

“Will you all please stop staring,” you said, not taking your eyes off the screen. 

“We missed you,” Gaz said. 

You let out a long sigh and let your forehead thunk down onto your knees. You didn’t want to have this conversation, not tonight. 

“How long did you look for me?”

“We’ve been looking up until we found you, but there were other things we also had to do,” Price responded. 

“I’m not angry with you all, I know you had other missions. They didn’t hurt me that bad, really, the only scar they left was this,” you ran a hand through your hair. 

Price held his hands up, “we’ll talk about it more when you’re ready.”

“And if I’m not? If I’ll never be?” You asked, feeling brave. 

“Then that’s okay. Those men are gone, we’ll never let them hurt you again,” Price said, his words sure and concrete. 

You glanced at each of them and watched as they nodded at you to prove their commander’s point.

“It suits you, you know,” Soap said from his spot on one of the couches. He let out an oof when Ghost slapped a hand onto his chest. 

“Shut up, Soap,” you responded, a smile that you haven’t felt in a long time on your lips. You looked over at Ghost who was pulling his hand off Soap’s chest, a warm look in his eyes. 

“We made some food for you while you were in the shower, whenever you want it,” Price said after standing up when a commercial break came on. He stopped on his walk to the door, stopping beside your chair, “it’s good to have you back soldier,” his words sounding nothing but sincere. 

Your body still went tense when Price placed a hand on your shoulder, but you raised your hand and placed it on top of his, “it’s good to be back.”

[cicibaebie]

. ˚◞♡  →  pretty lady, w. rojas

one shot trial one !

warren rojas | 4.5k 

just a fluffy warren one shot <3 awkward confession time, sweet kisses :-)

*not edited, forgive me for bad writing 🫶

warnings: the reader's nicknames that are given are predominantly female – girl, lady, woman + no use of reader having particular features – skin colour, hair type, body type, etc | mainly sfw – though much kissing at the end !, use of nicknames (darling, hun, pretty girl/lady, sweets, etc), mature language

“boo, no,” came the quiet exasperated sigh through your lips. you shook your head with a frown, and stared down at the crazed page before you; scribbles of chords, lines and a long series of notes that seemed to only get progressively more snappy. the sight only made the simmering agitation in your chest closer to its near-boiling point. you bit your lip, and squinted your eyes at the page. maybe if you stared incredulously at it long enough, it would burn to ash.

this shit was truly too tiring. 

another sigh, it felt like that was all you were doing, huffing endless long breaths. you loved music, really, cherished it too close to your heart. and it was all trial and error, you knew this. but fuck, it was tiring. the disappointment and anger that forms when you aren't satisfied with your creations are enough to doubt everything. and no one likes that feeling. the feeling of losing that grasp and love for your art. 

no one liked feeling the fear of not being good enough either. the fact that you had to hand this to other people to gaze upon and approve of only heightened that same, exact fear. (your fear was valid, of course. but honestly, the band was only ever supportive and constructive towards everyone’s input and pieces. so yes, your fear was valid, but truthfully, unnecessary.)

maybe it's all a bit dramatic right now, but it's true! 

you pushed your hair behind your ears, and with your eyes still on the page, you readjusted yourself so you were now lying on your stomach. you huffed as you settled with the paper in your grasp, and with one more quick scan of the notes, you felt the displeasure plaguing you only grow. you picked it up with narrowed eyes, and roughly crumpled it, tossing it across the room. see how exhausting this is? 

today was a bad day, a grumpy day. you never liked those. you rather liked the days when you found enjoyment through your craft, the days when you could just fucking blaze through writing without a single insecurity or doubt towards it. 

normally, you would write with the others. maybe as a whole group, maybe a one-on-one with graham or karen. maybe warren. shit, you didn't care. ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᶦˡˡʸ. but it was late at night, and everyone was asleep, just before you were about to do just that, you instead, felt that randomly adrenaline-rushing motivation to just write. you can imagine how it felt when you proceeded to do that exact thing and hated every single thing that you came up with. the anger you were feeling so largely now stemmed from the sheer dissatisfaction towards the sound of the string of chords you came up with. 

you were pretty sure you were beginning to see red. maybe you were possessed because you were starting to feel the urge to smash your pretty red guitar against the ground many, many times. and you cherished that thing like it was your baby. 

you rested your head in your arms with a small frown, and huffed. you decided that, yes, going to bed would be best. maybe tomorrow would be better. you stared at the door and pursed your lips. the good lawyer and bad lawyer in your head were currently having a nasty debate. go to bed and come back tomorrow with a fresh start or stay, and continue to get progressively angrier. the bad lawyer was sorely losing. 

the disappointment towards your work tonight was beginning to make you feel rather sad, instead of angry. and with that, you rapidly decided that it was, indeed, time to go to bed. 

you braced yourself before pushing yourself up, and sitting in a kneeling position. it was uncomfortable, the hard floor wasn't all that kind to your legs, it actually rather hurt. you took a moment to brush your jean-covered legs before actually standing. you pushed your hair over your shoulders and glanced over at your instrument. your earlier aggressive, heavily violent thoughts towards your instrument made you feel just a tad guilty. you paced over to it, and picked it up from its stand with gentle hands. you stepped over to the open case on the floor, the soft red velvet warmly inviting the guitar.

as you packed up, you began to zone out and get lost in thought. whilst closing the case and reaching to clasp each buckle closed, a soft, nearly impossible-to-hear knock interrupted your actions. 

your hands stilled, and you looked over to the door with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you were thoroughly convinced everyone was asleep. looking back on it, you should have known otherwise. nearly everyone went to bed before you, even those who went to sleep at a relatively late time. you were always a night person—but you weren't the only one. 

the door opened, and you tilted your head a bit to get a glance at the unexpected guest. when the sight of a cheeky, sheepish smile and brown curls came into your vision, you had to let out a soft laugh. he only smiled wider at the sound and looked down to hide it. “hi warren,” you sang, looking away from his shy form to get back to your earlier activity of packing up your things. 

warren rojas. you two weren't best friends, he wasn't your karen karen and you weren't his peaches, but he was something. you didn't know what, but you knew you did really, really like warren. you always thought he was cool as fuck. chill as fuck too. he was the easiest person to talk to, you could sit with him for hours and just talk about the weirdest things that have no relevance whatsoever. not to mention, leave it to him to know how to have a good time. he was fun, brought it everywhere he went, and simultaneously mastered the art of being a sweetheart. 

“hi,” he said, grinning as he eyed your form, still clad in your day clothes, a patterned halter top and your signature blue bellbottoms. “what are you up to this late at night, hm?” the curly-haired man walked in, shutting the door behind him and curiously looked at the various crumpled balls scattered across the room. 

you let out a small ‘shit’, his short look at your mess acted as a reminder that you probably should tidy it up. placing the guitar case back on the ground, you paced over to each of the white papers, gathering them in your arms. “well,” you huffed, “i was going to write, but it didn't really go the way i wanted it to…” 

softly smiling at your mumbled words, he walked over and quickly picked up the rest (the majority) of the papers. “what about you, cheeky boy?” you asked in return, dumping the crumpled balls into the trash. behind you, he grinned at the nickname. always smiling when around you, he was. you looked up at him as he came to stand next to you, following your earlier actions. he brushed his hands and turned back to you with a hum, “couldn't sleep, ‘nd heard you playing,” he tilted his head at you rubbing your eyes. 

a sheepish ‘oh’, passed your lips, “sorry if i woke you, war’, thought i was being quiet,” 

he shook his head at your murmur, and waved a hand with a small smile, “you can’t wake someone who wasn’t sleeping in the first place darlin’, don’t worry about it,” he wasn’t lying either, really. it wasn’t uncommon for warren rojas to pull all-nighters, and proceed to sleep most of the day. he’d usually pass out after hot-boxing his room. 

nodding, you bounded over back to your case and picked it up again. “okay, well, i’m gonna go to bed now, thanks for helping me tidy up,” you grinned softly at him, “i’ll see you tomorrow, war’,” 

“see you tomorrow, sweets,” came his gentle reply, still standing there like a moron just watching you. he considered stopping, not wanting to seem like a creep, but ultimately those considerations were put to rest within two seconds. maybe he could play it off well enough. you had to have known he had a crush on you, and he knew it. he’s such a sweetie, bless him, but not subtle whatsoever. 

you gave him one last pretty smile before walking to the door, and just as you were about to open it, your hand ready on the handle, you stopped. you pursed your lips as a thought passed your brain, and raised your eyebrows with a hum. “d’you wanna smoke some cush?” 

a beat of silence. 

“fuck yeah, man.”

                                                          ୨♡୧

“y’know, i love your hair,” 

you gently whispered, twirling a curly brown strand between your fingers, and surveyed his face. his eyes were closed, and his body was so relaxed you would have thought he was sleeping. maybe he was, you didn't know any better. warren had his head in your lap, the rest of his body slung across your bed. you had been playing with his hair for the past 15 minutes. once you started, he’d gone completely silent and shut his brown eyes. maybe he really was sleeping. 

he absentmindedly hummed in return, and you smiled at the sound. with one hand in his hair, you picked up the joint from the ashtray set on your bedside table, and took a puff. “it may possibly be even better than mine, i must say,” you declared, placing the joint in warren’s expectant hand. 

at your words, he scoffed dramatically, shaking his head. he took his own puff, before battling your words with his own. “no way dude, are you fucking kidding me?” he exhaled with a scrunched face, making sure to turn away from you as the smoke trailed out of his mouth. “i got a mop on my head, you got some farrah fawcett shit going for ya,” 

that whole sentence nearly shook you to the bone in your state. mop on his head? then saying you could compete with farrah fawcett? you couldn't believe it.“you’re putting me up against farrah fawcett?” you widened your eyes at him, brows furrowed in sheer disbelief, “the farrah fawcett?” he nodded dramatically at your shocked words, “shit, man,” you raised your eyebrows with a hum, bobbing your head. “damn,”

“i’m fully serious,” 

“yeah, i know you are. i just don’t know if i can trust your opinion, angel. i mean it’s farrah fawcett,”

he passed the joint back to you with a floppy arm, and you reached over to place it back in its respectful seat in your ashtray. “you better believe it, hun,” he murmured, closing his eyes once again as you played with his hair. 

“you’re so pretty,” at his whispered words, your hands, where they were making a small braid in his mane, ceased their movement. the sweet compliment was unexpected, and truthfully, popped up out of nowhere. you pouted down at him, feeling your heart swell at his words. maybe he was sleeping and dreaming about farrah fawcett. “warren, your eyes are closed, y’know,” he reluctantly opened his baggy, bloodshot eyes, and looked at you. 

“nuh-uh, not anymore they aren’t,” his brown eyes surveyed your face and he nodded to himself with finality. you cheekily smiled, nearly gushing, “warren rojas got a li’l crush on me?” you cooed, untangling your hands from his curls to pinch his cheeks. 

he tiredly pushed your hands away with a hidden smile, you quietly laughed to yourself. you felt adoration fill your chest. really, that pestering anger inhabiting your heart before had melted away as soon as your cheeky boy had popped up on the other side of that door. he didn't even need to do anything, he didn't even need to know that you weren't having a good day, or time, or whatever. warren rojas just had to be himself to make you practically beam like the sun. 

geez, he had a crush on you? you had a crush on him. a big one too. 

you clicked your tongue as he turned his head away from you, and you rested one hand on his chest and the other on the top of his head. warren had a smile covering his face, but he was shying away. you couldn't believe it, not only were you compared to farrah fawcett, you made the warren rojas shy. what a night!

“stop it,” his voice was partially muffled into your lap, and you brought a hand up to your lips. the big smile on your face felt permanent. “you got a crush on me?” came your voice again, this time quieter, not as teasing—just as filled with adoration. he wiggled around, still groaning. 

you lightly tapped his cheek, a silent ‘look at me,’ passing from you to him. a small smile was glued to your face as warren turned, brown eyes landing on your beaming face—to which he grinned. that stupid grin stayed on his face as you raised your eyebrows at him and kept eye contact, whilst he looked away and gazed at the ceiling instead. he wanted to keep eye contact with you, it was a continuous challenge between you two. he never lasted more than ten seconds—don't be cheeky! you let out a sigh, and looked away as well, trying to pull yourself together. you feared you were having a heart attack with how fast it was beating. the remnants of smoke clouding the air and your lungs only seemed to intensify your feelings—which were already so much. and you didn't know it, but he felt the same. maybe even more so.  

“shit, can you blame me though, sweets?” he exclaimed, sitting up. you jumped as he nearly knocked heads with you. even he didn't expect this, earlier before his mouth betrayed him! god, you plagued his mind, and it just slipped out. really, you were like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to the side of his brain, it was frustrating. warren was a complete ladies' man, and knew his way around the female anatomy like he was a master in the art. he loved women, went crazy for them. but there was just something about you, that made him ache. you were so, so, so pretty, and carried such an abnormally beautiful soul with you everywhere you went. you were passionate in what you did, you were kind, and god damn, you were too fucking funny. you’re so much. too much. warren was a confident man, a charmer, never afraid to speak his mind. then there's you, making him feel like a little girl crushing on paul anka. 

cheesy as fuck. 

“i mean—you’re crazy, girl. literally a fucking fox, it's ridiculous,” warren mumbled to himself, more ranting than anything. he gaped for a few seconds, trying to gather the words on his tongue. you folded your lips into your mouth as you watched him begin his big confession. he glared at the flowery posters on your walls with wide eyes. “listen, i’ve met women, right? many, many women, men even! a lotta people!” you had to hide a laugh behind your hand at his words, “but you, ah–,” he snapped his fingers and shook his head at you. 

“i am a confident man,” warren declared, pointing a hand at you. 

“yes you are,” 

after your small reply, he went quiet, still trying to figure out what it is he wants to say. he wasn't about to say he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to, he was sober enough to know that that was a bit too much. warren felt a lot towards you, you made him feel vulnerable, seen. you made him feel like a literal horde of butterflies were swarming his entire torso. you sometimes made him feel like he was dying, with the way you made his heart skip beats, or made it beat rapidly fast. how does one convey that feeling without sounding clinically insane? i mean, sure, he’d been able to charm his way with the ladies before, using cheesy pickup lines was his favourite thing. ever. they were his favourite. but (not to sound like a total dick) those ladies were different. and you were something. something really important. it didn't help that he was still high as fuck, so, he was relatively stumped on what to say—he did know that he wasn't up for humiliating himself in front of you tonight. 

you bit your lip as you watched him struggle, you considered simply just saying ‘i know, i know, me too,’ to make this whole thing easier for him. but you wanted to give him the time to find it. the man showed no signs of giving up, and therefore you kept quiet. you played with the rings decorating your fingers as he stayed groaning and shaking his head at the ceiling every so often. clearly, he was having a crisis. 

and just as you were about to say something, it came to him. slowly, oddly—not the way he wanted it to, but he couldn't exactly be picky, and he considered leaving this entire thing for later and instead writing you a letter, or maybe even a song! but, you didn't seem like the type of chick to dig that. and you were gazing at him expectantly, concernedly, he could feel it burning into the side of his face. he never wanted to leave a crowd waiting. 

“okay,” he turned to you with wide brown eyes, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. the relaxing effect of mary jane said its farewells, and warren, ever unaware in his state of mind, wondered if he had done cocaine instead. “you, pretty lady, ” he huffed, “make me lose my mind, it’s unfair,” 

you raise your eyebrows at that, and let out a small laugh, but quiet down with a small smile once realizing he wasn't done. “you—and, as i stated before, a fucking fox, i mean come on,” he shrugged before reaching over and grabbing the joint from the ashtray again, warren figured he needed his heart rate to go down, relax a bit. he took a puff, grey smoke flowing out of his mouth in a long exhale, before continuing; “i like you a lot, darlin’. so much too, it kinda hurts a bit,” he placed the joint, now a stub, in the ashy part of its respectful tray.

you nearly melted, the smile on your face became a mere slightly gaped mouth and you thought your eyes were hearts, big red ones like from tom and jerry. “just something about you,” he let out a loud ‘whew’, waving an arm and sending you an exasperated look to which you couldn’t help but laugh prettily. and to warren, that sound was his fuel through this. this awkward confession that had been weighing him down the whole time he’d first seen you play on that stage, this confession that he was convinced would make his chest burst eventually. you made it so easy for him, he didn’t care if he got rejected straight after or got laughed at, he still made you laugh. sleep, food, water, even fucking air was unnecessary, for the man believed he could live off of your joy and happiness forever. 

“you got me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger,” warren murmured. he slumped and looked at you, starting to feel the insecurity kick in. so, he sighed and looked away, pulling a fresh joint from the small tin he kept in his pocket, and ignored your observing stare—despite the fact he desperately wanted to return the eye contact. 

you watched as he placed the joint between his lips, and you quickly crawled and snatched the zippo lighter you two shared off the bedside table, making it out of his reach. he still didn't look at you, merely huffing with a small smile beginning to form on his face, and you had to grin at the sight. you folded your lips into your mouth, and your eyes flickered around his face. you crawled over to him next, kneeling in front of his relaxed cross-legged form leaning against the headboard. 

letting out a huff at his stubbornness to look at you, you raised a single eyebrow. he only looked away further. it was an odd sight, a vulnerable one, to see the ever-confident warren rojas, show shyness and insecurity. he felt exposed, to let his charming, goofy facade fall. 

you knelt forward and softly grabbed the side of his face, making him have no choice but look at you. to him, it felt like one of those scary fucking laboratory hypnosis sessions. like his mind just stopped, and was consumed by you, you, you. you were overwhelming, like he couldn't take a deep breath for a second. shit, he thought he might pass out when your hazed eyes flickered between his own, and soon landed on his lips for a split second. 

and he thought he might’ve died and been sent to heaven when you gently lifted his face to bring the lighter up to his lips and lit the joint still set between them. it was silent, aside from the soft breaths coming from each of you, and the crisp sound of the paper on the joint burning whilst he took an absent-minded puff. you watched as the joint burned orange, and proceeded to flick the lighter closed, and set it on your pale, flowery sheets. 

truthfully, you seemed relaxed, and understanding, like you just knew. but you were so happy, nearly bursting on the inside. you weren't quite sure how you were holding yourself together, you felt fully ready to fall apart. just because of him. warren rojas, sure to be the death of you. 

you turned back to him, plucked the joint from his lips and brought it to your own. he watched with wide eyes as your soft lips wrapped around the white papers, and you took a hit. you weren’t looking at him anymore, rather simply looking down, and he was feeling a bit glad about it. not because your eyes were so intense and burned into him just naturally–but because he was sure to truly lose his shit if you did. 

grey smoke trailed out of your mouth and you turned back to him with a small smile, tilting your head. at the sight, warren let out a sigh, and lightly hit the back of his head against the headboard. “you’re so cute,” you quietly said, delightedly, and he groaned again and shook his head, bringing his hands up to cover his own smile. “god, don’t—” he sighed, running a hand through his curls, “damn you, woman,” 

you beamed, and shuffled to grab his hands away from his face. with them in your grasp, you folded your digits with his and his closed eyes opened. warren looked at you exasperatedly, huffing, “minx i tell you, a minx,” he mumbled to himself, feeling like a crazed man on a drug. you laughed, the sound ringing clear in his ears like the prettiest bell he ever heard. again, he could listen to it for ages, like it was a lifeline. 

you gave him a knowing smile, released his hands, and readjusted yourself so you were even closer to him. you watched as he took a deep breath, processing the close proximity. your heart skipped multiple beats as you brought both hands up to cup the sides of his neck, he sighed as you rubbed your manicured thumbs along his jawline. this beautiful man, you thought. you were sure you could never get enough of his curls, big brown eyes, or his absolute hilarity. you were disgustingly attracted to him, all of him. his entire fucking being. 

he was leaning forward towards you now as you hovered before him. to him, it felt like he was being drawn in, he looked back on his hypnosis thought. your eyes flickered all across the other’s face, and he moved so you were now instead sitting in between his legs. warren, cheekily with a grin, placed his hands on your waist and you huffed a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his for a moment. it wasn't lustful, it was the final buildup of all the unspoken attraction, love, and need between each other. it was sweet, sensual. 

he nudged his nose against yours, and he was so, so close. you two moved fluidly and teasingly, closely hovering over each other and chasing the other's lips. it was like a dance, a silent, ‘you have me, now come get me,’. 

oh, and the reward was legendary. you had your hopes and dreams, but this? it was difficult to describe just how much better it was in comparison. your lips finally slotted together like puzzle pieces, and this time, you really did melt. your shoulders slumped and with a broken exhale, you curved into him. he didn't care, only softly laughed into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your waist tighter, holding you together, whilst you curved your arms around his neck. 

he was perfect, so much so, it ached. your feelings toward him before this were like a game of tag, and endless chase, constantly seeking him out in everything you did; even subconsciously. the attraction kept you going, something to look for, to stay motivated for. but this? this was so much better, being able to have him right here. he was overwhelming all of your senses, you felt like you were drowning in him. you’d happily die this way. 

and warren? the man thought he was living a fantasy. he really didn't know what the fuck was happening, if he had something unknown put in his coffee this morning that made him extra desirable in the eyes of others, especially towards someone like you. yes, warren rojas—ladies' man, a rockstar, but you were a princess in his eyes. someone he did not deserve, could and should not have. but here you were, and you were perfect in every sense imaginable. an indescribable beauty was carried in all of you, and he adored all of it. 

warren, his mouth still on yours (just as overwhelming), ran his hands up your waist and flat on your back, only pushing you closer into him. god, you were so close, but he wanted more. yes, he was already losing himself in you, but just a little more, just a little closer. he happily sighed into your mouth as one of your hands tangled in his curls and the other lightly scratched at the nape of his neck, and this time you were the one smiling. 

you had to reluctantly pull away to take a breath, and warren blinked his brown eyes open with a grin. he rested his head against yours, and drew gentle circles on the curve of your back. 

“does that mean you’re into me too, cheeky girl?”

[seramilla]

Verosika struggles with saying “I love you”— after all the first person she said it to, left her after hearing. But Odette doesn’t pressure nor does she rush verosika to say it, she allows for it to be natural and for it actually mean something and for that— Verosika is eternally grateful.

Odette doesn't say a word when Verosika's annual "Halloween" party comes around. She can't say that she gets it -- she also has her own share of bad experiences with exes, but never any that made her want to rip out their aorta and stomp it into the dirt, like Verosika seems wont to do with Blitzo.

But Verosika had explained pretty early in their relationship that it's not about Blitzo anymore -- yeah, she'd been a devastated young demon in love when he'd left her in the lurch, but Verosika has moved on since then. These days, the parties are about helping all those other victims who've been abandoned by that two-timing, selfish prick. The Goetia prince Stolas, most recent of all.

Maybe it's because of Blitzo, or maybe because Odette also just doesn't want to rush things, but the first time an "I love you" is dropped is after the latest party. Verosika comes home a lot less...wound up than Odette had expected. Tired and exhausted, yes, but her partner seems almost...relieved? Less stressed than that morning? Whatever happened, Verosika doesn't come crawling into bed needing reassuring cuddles like Odette had expected her to. Instead, she just changes into her PJs and climbs in next to Odette like it's any other evening, moving softly so she doesn't wake up her partner.

It's useless, though, because Odette had already been lying there awake, waiting up for her, unable to sleep. When Verosika sees Odette's eyes glowing back at her in the dark from under a bundle of blankets, she smiles.

"Hey, babydoll."

"Hey...how was your party?"

"Good!" Verosika is oddly...chipper for it being 3 in the morning and having run on adrenaline and Beelzejuice all day. She seems unusually sober, too.

"Are you...okay?" Odette asks, wincing a little bit when Verosika's ice-cold legs and tail come into contact with her body, and she snuggles up under Odette's chin. Verosika's definitely been in the human realm, all right. It's always so fucking freezing there.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because...it's Blitzo."

Verosika's smile does falter a little, at hearing his name. But surprisingly, amazingly, it doesn't seem to be affecting her the way Odette had thought it would. She doesn't grumble or yell or do any of the stuff she was doing this afternoon, while getting ready. What exactly had happened that night? Had something happened, or is she just overthinking this?

"Yeah, well..." Verosika starts, "I tapped out early. Tex wrapped everything up for me."

"What? Really?" Odette is surprised. She'd expected the party to be an all-night affair. She supposes it is rather odd that Verosika is back before dawn. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," Verosika answers, just letting that response linger in the air for a while. She doesn't bother to elaborate. Odette's not sure if she should ask for details. "You know, babydoll, I might see if some of the others wanna run the shin-dig next year. I just wasn't...feelin' it tonight."

Now, that's extremely unlike Verosika. She has always been Blitzo's #1 Hater and plans these parties months in advance. She has the T-shirts, bumper stickers, and stacks of planners to prove it. What gives???

"Okay, wait, now I know something's up. There is absolutely no way you'd be saying this if something major didn't happen. Spill it! Are you okay? Did Blitzo...die or something? Why are you taking this so well?"

Verosika sits up to be able to look down at Odette in the dark. A pair of concerned, red eyes meet gold and pink, and Verosika sighs contently. She reaches a hand up to rub Odette's cheek, then runs it through her hair and scratches Odette's scalp lightly with her claws, the way she likes.

"He apologized. Finally. And I guess I just realized it doesn't...bother me anymore, now that I have you. I'm not over what he did to me, but I'm over him. I still put up the act, to get everyone in the mood, but to be honest, my heart just wasn't in it. And maybe that's the goal of the parties. To get to a place where I didn't need 'em anymore. The whole time, I just wanted it to be over, so I could be back here with you...where my heart truly is."

Odette looks up at Verosika, her red eyes shiny and wide like glistening saucers. She grips the blanket tightly to her chest, squeezing it between her claws. Is Verosika really saying...?

"...Because I love you."

There it is.

Odette's not going to cry...she's not going to cry...Odette Carmine doesn't cry!

"I love you, too, sweetie!" Odette says, a little too excited. She sits up to give Verosika an affectionate peck on the cheek. Then the peck turns into a passionate kiss, and okay, maybe a few tears leak out around her eyes, and the kiss turns a little heavy. "All night I just wanted you to be here! I missed you so much!"

Verosika does get a little emotional, then, too. She falls sideways into Odette's laps, throwing up her arms exaggeratedly and grabbing Odette's face between her claws for emphasis.

"I was so miserable, babydoll!!! As soon as the concert was over, I just hung out on the balcony. Then Blitzo and his whiny ass tried to ruin my party. But he was such a sorry sack of shit over Stolas dumping him, I almost...felt sorry for him! Me?! Verosika Mayday, sorry for Blitzo Buckzo?! I must really be losing it!"

"Nah," Odette smiles, leaning down to give Verosika another kiss on her forehead. Her girlfriend's skin is salty from sweat and booze, but she almost doesn't care. They are having a moment. "You're not losing it. That just means you're finally growing up to be a big girl who doesn't give a shit about no man!"

Verosika looks up at her girlfriend, grinning slyly. She pulls Odette down closer to her face by her nightshirt collar, her voice laced with a hint of spice. "Watch it. Don't think I'll take that from you just because you're hot."

Odette laughs and blushes. "Noted."

They settle back into bed again, side by side, Verosika's head tucked up snuggly under Odette's chin. Before the two of them fall asleep, Odette vaguely hears Verosika mumble something else about Blitzo, and manages to pick up the last thing she says before nodding off.

"Maybe I should consider passing the torch. That fucker Dennis looked like he really needed a leg up tonight... Maybe more than a leg... Sorry little fucker."

[00127am]

signed with love and forever yours, taeyong

postage. lee taeyong & gn! reader, no warnings! cost to ship. 594 words

i can't seem to write letters to you. every time i sit down and try to write one out, i fail. i've tried a hundred times by now and each one in this hundred hasn't been able to fully capture what i feel for you. no iteration of any sort of confession seems to meet the mark. i don't like saying i love you and i don't like reducing my affections down to those three, little words. three tiny syllables. because they are too small to encapsulate the whole of what i feel for you. though i'm not sure that any words can.

and when i try to find them, the words, i draw a blank. it's the same as when i sit down to write these letters to you. each time i do, i am so consumed by you, that i cannot even write the address. how do i write to someone who makes me feel things that not even words can describe? how do i show you how much i adore you if i cannot even muster up the courage to sign your name? how do i tell you how i feel if any such words that say it best fail to reach the extent of my affections?

and if i were to write to you, to speak to you, and use the phrase i love you--i think that i would wear it out. that i would say it, again and again and again and again until it no longer bore the meaning it once did. that you would grow tired of it falling from my lips because i would say it with everything you do. and i would write it on every letter, at the end of every sentence, as if it were a period. punctuating every word and phrase which i send to you, in hopes that this overuse would properly grasp the weight of my feelings. i doubt it.

i wish i could find the words for you. but until i do, please take i love you. because i truly do, love you, in every way which extends beyond the words.

about taeyong's love letters.

taeyong writes his letters in messy cursive, rushed and impatient. it's as if he can't seem to get the words out fast enough, phrases often repeating and points made over and over again. he can never seem to find the perfect phrasing, but his rambling usually encompasses everything he's trying to say or at the very least, everything that he's feeling in the moment.

all of his letters are written on sparse paper he has lying around, ripped and crumpled. he writes on music sheets and sticky notes and receipts, covering front and back with pretty words and sentiments that pull a flush to your cheeks. he sends them along with any thing lying around that he thinks you would like. flower petals, cut outs from magazines, candy wrappers. all pieces of his life that he sends to you, so you can hold pieces of him--even when he's hundreds of miles away.

when you read his letters, you feel like your heart may burst out of your chest. you read his words like how he has written them, quickly and hurriedly, as if they may bleed off the page if you take one second too long to blink. you feel as if you've been consumed by adrenaline, heart beating a mile a minute. and when you read them, in this way that makes you ache (body and soul), you find yourself agreeing that love is not nearly enough of a word.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[halcyonnhood]

We Should Stick Together

Summary:

Kate spins around in her chair, meeting his mischievous expression with her own confusion, “Why are you still here?”

“For you,” He says. It's said so casually as if she should've known the answer.

Or Kate tries to face the traumas from her past and Javi keeps showing up. She accepts that he might be the missing puzzle piece to her story.

Pairing: Kate Carter/Javier "Javi" Rivera

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating: General

A/N: Just some little pre-canon and pre-slash angst. There will be another part about their hospital stay and injuries and all.

It's a little rushed at the end, but it also feels like a good point if I wanna do anything set after this part.

It's my first Twisters fic so please be kind, I have some ot3 (Kate/tyler/Javi) that i'll be working on soon too!

Cross posted on AO3: Here

“Kate, take me back to the morning after the tornado,”

Kate's eyes flutter back and forth under her shut eyelids. She subconsciously takes a deeper breath in, the feeling of the warm humid air seemingly sticking to her skin. It’s brighter out. The skies aren’t blue, the sun is still rising and there’s slight cloud coverage, nothing dangerous or concerning to be found. It’s just enough to make the environment feel and look hazy. Everywhere she looks is demolished, debris scattered as far as the eye can see. The road she had traveled with Jeb, Abby, and Praveen had been barren, spare a barn and a handful of signs that had been farther away from the underpass. She can’t seem to visualize if this is the same road they had started on or not. 

She raises a weak hand up to her pounding head. Her forehead is sticky and warm, her matted hair glued to her skin. When she brings the hand back down to eye level, it’s covered in deep darkened blood. Was it from her? Or was it from Jeb? Or when the sign impacted Abby, did the torrential winds splatter her blood back onto her and Jeb? She wipes it onto her shorts in a panicked huff, ignoring the sharp ache in her thigh. She already made the mistake of looking down into the deep wound when she woke up against the asphalt. She doesn’t know that her stomach can handle that sight again. 

“Kate?” A voice calls out to her, “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Kate responds. The voice doesn’t come from her, it feels as if it floats around her. 

“What do you see?”

She hears it before her eyes are able to focus on it. The sound of rocks and branches crunching beneath the tires as a car slowly approaches. It feels like all of the adrenaline melts out of her body. 

“It’s-It’s a car,”

“Who’s car is it?” 

“I’m not sure,” She sounds unsure of herself. When the car parks, blue and red lights flicker on. She sighs in relief, “It’s an officer”

“Is there anyone else with them?” 

Kate's deep brown eyes meet a pair of warm hazel eyes.

Kate's eyes fly open and she sits up unsteadily on the cream colored couch. The therapist looks at her with a calm and cool expression, despite her client's alarmed state.

“Kate, remember our deep breathing,” The therapist instructs. 

In, in, in, out, out, out. After a few moments, her heart rate settles back into comfortable ranges. 

“Kate, it seems as though we've hit a pretty strong mental block. We get through the tornado and the death of your friends, but something in your physical healing period seems to be triggering you. PTSD can be fickle, but I think we can get through this and find the memories,”

At that moment, Kate decides that she doesn't want to find the missing pieces anymore. She knows that's why she started therapy, specifically with this type of therapist. To find the chunk of memories that seemed to be wiped clean off of the slate. She only finds herself angry after each session. She rehashes the events before the tornado, lives through the terror and death over and over, but hardly knows anything about her recovery. This session was the first one that uncovered something new and all she found was hazel eyes.

It was enough. She has enough nightmares without reliving it through the full screen of her brain while awake too. 

So, she leaves. She leaves the therapist's office without a word, stops to get coffee at her favorite little shop, and heads to work.

The world keeps spinning. 

______________

She lost a shoe. She wore tennis shoes and tied the laces tightly around her ankles like she does for every storm chase. Still, one is missing. It feels silly to notice, especially when her friends were likely eviscerated. But as she steps on branches, glass, metal-it becomes hard to ignore with the stinging pain. 

When she hears the car approaching, the 

cracks of wood snapping and gravel kicking up, she stares with squinted eyes. She shifts her weight onto her uninjured leg, despite the feeling of rocks and glass shards slicing into the bottom of her foot. A door opens and slams shut, much faster than the second one echoing after it. She blinks in the early morning haze, confused and dazed. 

No one approaches her too closely. Feet apart, she meets a pair of misty hazel eyes. They're warm and familiar. The splattered freckles across honey shaded cheeks are a constellation of love. 

Javi. Javi is standing right in front of her, unscathed and breathing freely. He's alive. He's safe. Hes alive. The storm didn't take him away from her.

“Javier,” Kate's hoarse voice whispers. Even getting a breath of his name out feels like it takes every last wisp of her energy.

She doesn't miss the strong, stable arms catching her weakening body before everything fades to black. 

___________

Kate wakes with a start. She's alone in her own bed, surrounded by the safe beige walls of her apartment and the bustling hum of new york city. Nightmares aren't unusual for her, but she never dreams of the aftermath. She never dreams about Javi unless it's the sound of his floating voice screaming through the CB radio as they abandon the car. The whole dream rubs her in the wrong way and leaves a sour taste in her mouth and a sullen mood in its wake.

She washes the leftover soured fear down with bitter dark cold brew coffee and an exceptionally dry scone at work. It's usually easy to avoid the constant dreams and reminders when she's focused on keeping all of her brain power on the work at hand. She's tracking storms through Indiana and into Ohio, while taking notes about how unusually active their tornado season has been. She clicks her pen in annoyance, unsure if she should issue a warning or hold off. 

As new radar scans and developments load onto her screen, her mind circles back to the dream. Lesser so about the dream, but more so the person that appeared in it. Javi. She thinks about him often, she misses him. And when he showed up randomly in the meeting room of the NOAA office a week ago, she felt the world stop turning on its axis. Everything she had run away from five years ago stood right in front of her. She wonders if that's what triggered the dreams. Maybe in the rush of adrenaline and shock, her body confused thoughts of him with actual memories. She thinks that might be the case. 

“I would issue a warning for that one,”

There it is again. The feeling of the world screeching to a dead silent halt. Now, Kate wonders if simply thinking about Javi can make him appear out of thin air. Because here he is again, heavy hand on the back of her computer chair and finger wagging obnoxiously at a storm cell on her screen. 

“That cell weakened,” Kate says.

“The vertical wind shear says otherwise,” Javi argues. She ignores the huff of a muffled laugh while she issues a warning for the area. 

Kate spins around in her chair, meeting his mischievous expression with her own confusion, “Why are you still here?” 

“For you,” He says. It's said so casually as if she should've known the answer. 

 “I told you no,”

“I know that, I actually wanted to apologize for the way I went about asking you to join me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put pressure on you to do something that would hurt you,” 

“It's okay. Y’know, it's just a lot and it isn't you, I just-” She trails off. It's so hard to put her thoughts into words. 

“I wanted to spend time with you, that's why I stayed. No pressure, no feeling guilty if you reject the offer. I know you left for a reason, I did too. But I want you to know that there's still a line open here,” He explains. 

The words tumble out of Kate's mouth like a sigh of relief, “I'd love that,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You go explore the city. I'll call you when I'm off and we'll go out for dinner,” She grins.

Javi parts with a hug and she feels lighter inside. All of the despair and dread melts from her bones and she floats through the day. The promise to see him at the end of her day seems to bring color back to her lackluster life. 

It's brighter with him in it, especially when he's smiling softly at her between clinking wine glasses. She can't tell if the warmth soothing her soul is just the red wine or Javi fixing the cracks within her heart. She'd like to stay believing that it's simply the wine speaking. 

The honeyed freckled skin and warm hazel eyes seem to say otherwise. 

_____________

Kate invited Javi to sleep on her couch for the rest of his trip. It was the kind thing to do, despite living in one of the largest cities of the country, she still holds onto her southern hospitality. It's worked out well so far, in fact, she's enjoyed it much more than she had expected to.

They camped out in the living room together the first night, surrounded by snacks and his cool military gadgets and data. The warm buzz from the bottles of wine left them talkative and giggly into the wee hours of the morning. They finally fell asleep, legs intertwined and Kate still holding onto one of his text books. She overslept for work, but woke up well rested and nightmare free. She hadn't felt that relaxed in years. It was as if she had finally found a wonder drug to alleviate all of her tight wound terrors. 

The restful sleep followed her for the next few nights, even though they had slept in separate rooms and gave each other privacy at night. It was confusing at first, but Kate chalked it up to finally having a familiar safe person near her again. It makes sense that her body would fall out of its constant flight or fight mode. 

Tonight is no different. They cook dinner together and binge watch Yellowstone while whispering about nonsensical show theories. They finish the first season before deciding to call it a night and she retreats to her bedroom for some solitude. She falls asleep easily, just like every other night.

Until she's gasping for air and trying to scratch at the hands gripping her shoulders tightly. The wind howling in her ears and the shrill scream piercing her soul comes to a screeching halt. The pressure of the hands anchor her to the bed, just what she needs when she feels as if she's reeling. They bring her back to reality gently. 

“Kate,” Javi’s voice comes into focus. 

“Javi,” She whispers. She grasps onto his hand softer this time, her thumbs rubbing against his reddened skin. She doesn't miss the way he scans her face with concern, as if he's dealing with something delicate.

“You're okay. You're in your apartment with me. It'll be okay,” 

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, ”

Javi relaxes against her bed and their hands fall into his lap, “Don't worry about it. Are you okay?” 

“I'll be fine,” She murmurs, “Can you just stay here for the rest of the night?” 

“Of course I can,” 

Javi doesn't push her, doesn't question her. He just sits with her quietly, then falls asleep on top of her bed quilt while running a soothing hand through her hair.

_____________

It's the last day of Javi’s trip. He tells her repeatedly that he would push it off if he could, but with the strength in the storms being projected, he simply couldn't ignore it. 

“We should talk about the other night,” Javi says cooly. He's folding his clothes to pack tightly into his suitcase and she's folding a basket of clean laundry. She enjoys having someone to do humdrum tasks with her 

“I'm sorry about that. That happens sometimes, it isn't that big of a deal,”

“Kate,” He murmurs, “You were screaming,”

“It was a dream, Javi. That's it,” 

His head ducks a bit and he avoids the frantic ‘shut up’ look she's giving him, “You were screaming my name,”

“Javi, drop it. Please,” 

“I can't leave you alone like this,” Javi pleads. He silently pleads for her to show that she'll be okay.

“You didn't hesitate last time,” Kate bites back. 

She hates the venom that seeps through her mouth with the statement. It's hateful and she knows it. His eyebrows shoot up in confusion and then melting into an expression of hurt is just the nail in the coffin. It looks as if someone stuck a dagger in his chest and twisted it in deep. She looks away from him, tries to focus on folding her shorts, but with blurry eyes she can't seem to get the seams to match correctly. 

“Last time!?” Javi exclaims. 

“You left me. I lost everyone and you left,” She says weakly. 

“Is that the story you tell people?”

“Story? It's what happened! You couldn't handle what happened and ran off to Miami!” 

“You're leaving out the week I laid in a hospital bed beside yours. The two and a half weeks following that when I stayed for you and only you,” He sounds gruff when he says it. 

It feels like the world crashes and collapses on Kate all over again. It feels like missing pieces click into place when he says that. The dreams, the therapy, the blocking of memories all seem to solve themselves. She sets the pair of shorts down, abandoning all hope on being able to focus enough to fold them. When she looks up, she finds him staring back and there isn't anger or hatred gracing his features. There's nothing but hurt and confusion. 

“Kate,” 

“I quit therapy recently, because I couldn't get past some forgotten memories. Memories from right after the storm,” 

“So, you don't remember…” Javi trails off. 

“I was alone for an entire night and in the morning, I remember a police cruiser finding me. You were there, you helped them find me,” Kate explains with a frown. 

“I did,” He confirms. 

“Everything else is blurry. The only day I remember crystal clear is the day you left,” She ignores the strange sympathetic-pity expression Javi is donning. 

“My arm was shattered and I had a concussion. They did surgery and I was hospitalized for a week. I made sure we shared a room the entire time and after that, I stayed with you day and night. I didn't leave until you told me you were going to,” Javi murmurs. 

Kate reaches a hand towards him. She relaxes when she feels his warm skin against her own, “I'm sorry I said that,”

“If you forgot the rest, I can understand why it seemed that way for you,” Javi laughs lightly. 

She stares at their intertwined fingers for a long time and tries her best to process everything he's told her. She doesn't magically remember everything, but it makes the hazy memories a bit sharper. She squeezes his hand tightly.  

“Stay,” Kate says. She notices the way his thumb freezes while circling her skin. 

“You know I can't,” Javi tells her, “But you can come with me and I'll tell you everything,” 

“I hate that you always get what you want” Kate rolls her eyes. 

Kate follows him. She ends up back in Oklahoma in a fancy white storm par truck with her hand interlaced with Javi’s as they speed through the fields. He tells her everything about her recovery, the rough parts, the good parts…The things that caused her to repress it all.

The tornados tore her life to shreds, but they managed to repair her piece by piece as well. She likes to think that this is the reason they say rainbows tend to follow after storms. They have to survive the throws of the weather to get to something beautiful. 

Kate thinks that chasing with Javi might just be the rainbow part for her story. 

[xxunknowncutiexx]

Ray from BSH fic <3. This is meant to take place after the Ray ending but before the after-story. There will be two parts to this fic just purely because I made it too long and couldn't post it all together. Ray is probably also OOC, sorry!! Warning: While my fic isn't sexual, BSH is an 18+ game so, minors please stay away from this fic. If I find out you're a minor and interacting with my work I will block you.

You stared at Ray, watching as he cooked pancakes. It felt domesticated, watching your... boyfriend? You weren't too sure what you and Ray were, in all honestly. Anyway, you watched as Ray made the two of you pancakes for breakfast. Ray always insisted on making you food, it became part of your routine at this point. Ray seemed to like cooking, maybe it was relaxing to him? You weren't sure, you hated cooking, it wasn't your thing, and you were more of a baker, in all honesty. "Good morning, Star. Are you just going to stare at me all morning?" Ray's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You blinked, looking up at the 6'2 man in front of you. You felt blood rush to your cheeks, you were sure you were blushing. "Oh... sorry." It felt awkward, despite this being normal at this point and you were sure he was just teasing, you still felt embarrassed you had gotten caught staring. "There's nothing to apologize for, Star." Ray had an uncharacteristically soft smile on his lips, a smile that was reserved for only you, it always made your heart flutter. You didn't respond and instead, made your way closer to him, shuffling closer. You wrapped your arms around Ray's waist from behind, letting out a quiet yawn as you closed your eyes, resting your head against his back. "Still tired?" He asked in a murmur as he reached behind to ruffle your hair before flipping a pancake. "Yeah, I didn't sleep too well, and don't do that, I've told you not to ruffle my hair like that." You huffed out at the action, acting more annoyed than you felt. You had grown used to Ray,  you had grown to love his small quirks, how he fell asleep halfway through watching a show, how he hated action movies, how he always called you a brat, or how he would call you Star. You adored the nickname, you adored him- no, you loved him. "....You love me?" Ray's voice broke you out of your thoughts yet again. "Wait, shit, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to read your mind." You opened your eyes, looking up at Ray who was staring down at you, eyes wide and a small blush across his cheek. Shit. "...it's okay, It was an accident." You looked away, your mind swirling with thoughts. You had been so careful to try not to think such thoughts around Ray, especially after he had confessed his love for you before you two had moved in but it seemed you had slipped up. It was bound to happen, though. The more important thought though, was did you really love Ray? You had felt love before, you had been in love with Double, which had been the biggest mistake of your life. However, things were different Ray though, they were more... comfortable. Double had been exciting, a rush of adrenaline until... Well, you didn't want to think of that. With Ray, things were more... comfortable. Maybe things had gone a bit too fast, sure, but given the circumstances it made sense, it made sense for you two to move in and Ray didn't seem to push you into anything like Double did. You didn't have to walk on eggshells around Ray like you had to with Double.  "...I think so, I think I love you." You admitted in a murmur. Ray stared at you for a moment before letting out an exhale you didn't realize he was holding in. Ray seemed relieved, you couldn't blame him, though. "I love you too., Star. I love you so much." Ray leaned down, kissing your forehead before turning his attention back towards the pancakes. "Sorry, they might be a bit burnt." He sighed, quickly grabbing a plate and scraping the pancakes out of the pan. "It's fine, I don't mind. A little bit of burnt pancakes never killed me before."

[la-grosse-patate]

Summary: After one successful expedition, Roger and Isabel land in a safe spot to asses the damage, refuel and admire... the... sunset ☀ Wordcount: 875

If Isabel had any more coherent thoughts left in her brain, they died on that damned aircraft carrier. Either squashed under dozens of pairs of motocross boots and beefed up cars, or pulverized by highwaymen bullets and rockets. And despite the tranquility of their hidden safe spot, the constant sizzling of her abused eardrums only seemed to get worse

With one shaky hand placed atop her still racing heart, she was glad to see that Timber was in much better shape than her.

“A few bullet holes here and there,” Roger’s voice echoed from behind her, where he knelt next to his beloved helicopter, “but nothing La Grosse Patate can’t handle.”

It was good news, right? Sure, she could walk away with permanent hearing loss, but they all made it through. Timber was alright, Roger was alright, La Grosse Patate... Had new ventilation holes, but by the grace of God, they were all fine.

Right?

A light chuckle escaped her throat, though it carried no amusement.

Rush would scold her, give her the ‘I told you so’ speech. Tell her that the risk wasn’t worth the reward. And even though the last few minutes of her mission were a blur, fragments of what had transpired at the lighthouse during her and Timber’s frantic escape were slowly starting to come back to her.

The captain didn’t expect shit to go south so quickly. One minute she was sneaking around, playing deadly ninja, the next she was running for her life with that stupid fucking package. And waiting for Roger to come pick her up felt like the longest two minutes of her life.

Maybe Rush was right, after all.

Still in flight mode, still high on adrenaline, she felt as wild as the sky looked.

Hues of pink and orange graced her tired eyes, and she felt the corners of her lips turn upwards. Happy to see that mother nature still did her thing. It was like she knew just what Isabel needed in that moment.

But as she stood there, admiring the show of colors, stars and clouds, she failed to notice Roger slowly making his way towards her.

“Enjoying the view, captain?”

Her dumb smile dropped from her face faster than Nana’s victims.

Come on, girl.

Scrambling to find two brain cells to rub together, “Yeah, it’s... nice,” was all she could muster before bowing her head in shame and defeat.

As the pilot came to stand in front of her, she felt her neck getting warmer. How he managed to turn her brain to mush in a matter of seconds was beyond her. She was pathetic.

“You did great back there, chérie.”

Suddenly, the sand beneath her feet became absolutely enthralling.

“You should have seen Timber,” she deflected, trying her damned hardest not to let the blush creep higher than the scarf around her neck. “He tore their asses to shreds. Shreds, I’m telling you.”

Proud of herself for finally forming a somewhat proper sentence, she lifted her gaze to look for her canine companion. For a distraction.

But instead of keeping her mouth shut, she opened it again to ramble some more.

“It was a total massacre. Timber went for their faces everytime,” she beamed like a proud mother. “Couple guys even threw themselves into the water to run from him, but I’m pretty sure they met an even worse fate,” she nodded to herself, staring at the ground. “Sharks, y’know?” she elaborated, meeting the man’s eyes to make sure he understood what she meant. “There- there are sharks in the water there and...”

When the puzzled look on his face turned to mirth, and his boisterous laugh filled her still buzzing ears, she felt as if the weight of a thousand aircraft carriers lifted from her chest.

“Besides,” she ventured with renewed confidence, “you did all the hard work. Flying us all the way here, I mean... that’s a lot of unslept hours, and stress, and...”

Roger shook his head, and she shut right up.

“Seeing you kick ass gives me all the strength I need, Isabelle,” he assured her. A gentle smile still tugged at his lips. “And when that truck exploded, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Fuzzy memories replayed in her mind, rewinding to the exact moment she discovered those crates of fireworks and rigged the highwaymen truck that carried them. That was, in fact, a genius move on her part. Funny how she totally forgot she did that.

“En fait, the second most beautiful thing,” he corrected.

Isabel made a face. How dare he downplay her work, her craft and her tactics, when she’d just infiltrated the enemy stronghold, outsmarted the most dominant faction in the region and stole their most precious resources gosh dang it he was smiling, he was smiling at her, why was he smiling at her?

Once her face started flushing, there was no stopping it. And when she felt her ears burn, she prayed with every fiber of her being that the deeper orange shades in the sky did a great job at concealing the color in her cheeks.

Come on girl.

“You know what, I agree. This... sunset,” she scoffed, gesturing towards the view in front of them. “You don’t see this everyday. God really said ‘bless this day in particular’.”

Decided to draw the most simple thing ever to try and get myself back into shape. I haven't touched my graphic tablet in a very long time and my skills have gotten a bit rusty. As for my writing, well... English is not my first language.

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